


Snakes and Other Cunning Creatures

by darkswordstill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), BAMF Harry Potter, Female Harry Potter, Good Malfoy Family (Harry Potter), Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Not Beta Read, Powerful Harry Potter, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, Smart Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:55:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 92,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkswordstill/pseuds/darkswordstill
Summary: What if Harry Potter was actually Heather Potter? What if she learned she was a parselmouth when she was a small child, and learned the lessons that snakes have to teach?This is my very first fanfic, I hope that y'all like it!





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Italics: thought  
> ~Parseltongue~

Chapter 1

A baby left in a basket on the front step on the first day of November is a great beginning to a fairy tale. Not so much a childhood, though. A little girl, orphaned and abandoned at only 15 months of age, left in the care of her mother’s sister. Heather Lyra Potter slept peacefully, wrapped in a light green blanket embroidered with constellations and flowers, holding a parchment envelope. At 6am on the nose, the door opened, just like every other morning. Things would not be the same for the residents of the cookie cutter suburban home ever again.  
Petunia, a tall plain woman with a long neck and short light brown hair, gasped as she looked at the toddler nestled in the basket. She snatched it up and slammed the door as she stumbled into the kitchen. “Vernon!” The note of fear and panic in her voice woke the child in the basket. Tiny fists rubbed at her brilliant green eyes. A thick pile of raven black hair was revealed as she pushed the blanket out of the way. The envelope drifted to the table with a soft snickt as a large man with brown hair, a once muscular body softened into fat slammed into the room.  
“Pet! What is this?? Babies don’t just appear on a doorstep here. This ..... abnormal... behavior, is it.. Is it your sister’s family” His voice dropped to a whisper, dripping with distaste and fear. Petunia’s already pale skin grew even paler, as her shaking hand reached for the note.

  
“I.. it must be.. This this is Heather,” she stuttered, the words tripping over each other as she struggled to read the note in her shaking hand. “You remember, Lily’s girl?” She dropped into a seat, and looked up at her husband, her expression bleak. “It says that Lily, she’s dead. Her freak of a husband, too. This says... We have to keep her, or else we’ll be killed too.” They both looked over at the toddler in the basket. She reached out for her aunt and uncle, looking uncertain.

  
“Mama? Dada? Unca?” Her lower lip trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes, making the green shimmer. Vernon looked between his stricken wife and the child abandoned in front of them. Just then, he heard the sound of his son upstairs, indulging in his standard morning tantrum.

  
“Petunia, I told you when I agreed to marry you that I couldn’t have any of your sister’s .. freakishness.. In our life. You figure out something and take care of this problem.” His face turned redder and redder as he spoke, dropping into a cold hiss by the end of the sentence. Petunia nodded brokenly, looking down at the baby that had her sister’s eyes, and then up at her husband as he stomped up the stairs after his son.

  
“Oh Lily... How could you do this to me?” She mumbled, standing again, and softly rubbing the back of her hand against the baby’s pale cheek. “You can stay.. For a little while. Just until I find out what is going on. Any freakishness, and you’ll have to go.”

  
Eyes that seemed too bright, too intelligent peered at her from behind long sooty lashes. Petunia took a deep breath, lifted her niece out of the basket, and stood her up on the ground. “Well then. Can you walk?” And with that, Heather joined her aunt’s family.

  
oOo

  
By the time Heather was four, she was doing more chores than many would expect of a ten year old. In the mornings she made all the beds, which was a struggle given her petite size. After making the beds, she brought the laundry down, sorted it, and used a step ladder to start it. Next, she helped cook breakfast. Aunt Petunia looked down at her, and smiled tightly. “Girl, today you’re going to start cooking on the stove. First, get the eggs ready like always. You know which pan we use, get moving!” Heather nodded, looking down. She was secretly a little excited. The stove was hot and dangerous, and Dudley was never allowed near it. She figured that it made her special to be allowed to use it. Carefully, she started on the scrambled eggs. The eggs were glistening in the pan, slowly turning a lighter yellow as she shoved them around with the spatula. She so caught up in watching the eggs transform, she didn’t hear Dudley coming up behind her. He shoved, hard, in the center of her back, and she fell onto the stove, a shriek caught in her throat. The pan she was using for the eggs slipped backwards onto the back burner, and all she could see was the blue glow of the gas flame as her arm hit the top of the stove. Just when she had almost hit the surface, the entire stove turned off, and the metal grate became stone cold. Heather gasped, and tears fell down her face. Terror shook her, and she looked back over her shoulder. Dudley was standing there, his round belly straining at his new football club shirt, his face pale in disbelief. Her aunt stood right behind him, her face pure white in terror. “No, no, no, I thought we were safe when ... No..” her breath caught in her throat, and she snatched Heather up by her arm, forcing her to walk on her tip toes as she hustled her back to her cupboard under the stairs. “Not one word! I don’t want to hear one word out of you, you little freak!” She slammed the cupboard door shut and clicked the lock on the outside, before rushing over to her son.

  
Heather looked down at her arm, rubbing gently at the red marks fading into purple bruises on her thin bicep. Her eyes hardened, as she thought to herself, Why is Aunt mad? Is it ‘cause the stove broke? She listened carefully, her ear pressed up against the tiny gap near the hinges. All she could hear was some furious whispering, and then louder Dudley being settled in front of the telly with the eggs that Heather had just made. She had just settled back onto her thin dirty mattress, leaning up against the wall in the back of the cupboard, when the door slammed open.  
Her aunt stared down at her, disgust written all over her face. “Go outside. Water the garden, weed the beds, and you better not pull any flowers like you did last time, you hear me, girl? Well? Now go!” Like usual, her aunt didn’t wait for acknowledgment, just for Heather to slip out of the cupboard and go outside. She tugged at her dark shirt, wishing that she had worn the lighter one. It was a hot day outside, and her cousin’s old black shirt was always the worst in the summer. As she passed the stove on her way out the back door, Heather frowned in confusion. The kettle was heating up on the same burner she had just used, which meant that the stove wasn’t broken after all.

  
Heather buried her fingers in the ground, teasing the roots of the weeds out as she pulled them. The earth was cooler than the air, and she had started in the shade of the house, just out of sight from the kitchen window. A whisper caught her attention from underneath the bush beside her. Fingers deep in the dirt, she froze. ~Nasty two legger disturbing my home. It needs to go away!~  
She carefully looked around, never having been called a two legger before, but the angry tone was impossible to miss. Not seeing anyone, with a quick glance at the kitchen window and back door, she whispered in return. ~I’m sorry, I haveta pull weeds or else I’m in trouble.~

  
There was a hiss, and then slowly a green snake with spots running down his body and a yellow patch of scales around his neck slipped out from under the bush. He lifted up his body slightly and tasted the air before responding. ~A speaker! I’ve never met a two legger that can speak decent language! And you look like a hatchling.~

  
~I’m not a hatchling! What’s that mean? I’ve never met a snake that talked English before. You must be very clever~ Slowly, she offered her hand to the snake, stopping a few centimeters away to allow him to close the distance. A snake! Talking to me!! This is the best day. First I get to cook on the stove, and all that pretty blue fire, and now a snake can talk English! Best day. In her mind, there was no reason to dwell on the accident that got her the ring of bruises on her upper arm, because today was turning out to be magical.

  
The snake gave a hissy laugh, and slid further out to start slipping up her arm to her shoulder. ~I don’t know what an English is, but you’re speaking parseltongue right now. You’re a parselmouth~  
Heather frowned deeply. Her dark brows furrowed and she shoved her long dark curls out of her face with her free hand. ~That doesn’t make sense. People can’t speak snake, and parsel is a package. I don’t have a tongue made out of boxes..~ She felt very offended in the way that only a 4 yr old can manage, and stuck her tongue out to show it off. ~See? Normal tongue~  
The snake gave another hissy laugh and curled around her neck. ~I like you, little speaker. Show me your den when you’re done disturbing the hunting grounds.~  
That night, curled up in her cupboard with the snake, she nibbled on her slice of stale bread while the snake slithered around checking out the corners and examining the cleaning supplies on the shelf above the mattress. She pressed up against the wall opposite the stairs side, and watched him carefully. ~You’ll haveta be quiet in here Mr. Snake. Uncle and Aunt don’t want any noise.~ She kept her voice quiet, trusting that the telly in the next room would cover any noise she made. She frowned suddenly, listening to herself. ~I sound all hissy! I am speaking snake, aren’t I?~  
The snake stopped, looked at her, and if a snake could look disgruntled, he would. ~I told you that you were a speaker, snakeling. I like your nest. There is food and good hiding. These smelly things are no good, though.~ He gestured at the chemicals.

  
She smiled. ~No one has ever been in my cupboard before, thank you! What food, though?~

  
He nodded his head towards a crack in the wall she leaned against. ~Mice, just through there.~ He looked her up and down, as she froze, her eyes getting bigger. ~You’re too big too fit. If you wait, they might come out later.~

  
Heather nodded, finishing up her slice of bread. ~Today has been the best day. I got to cook on the stove, and I made my first friend. What’s your name?~  
The snake slithered up, curling into her lap. She let her hands drift onto him, gently sliding two fingers over his head and down past the yellow collar, onto the green and darker brown speckles. ~My nestmates called me Breeze-through-the-grass. Sleep, snakeling. There is hunting to do tomorrow.~

  
She smiled. ~Thank you, Breeze-through-the-grass. Good dreams,~ And with that, she curled up on her side, pillowing her head on her arm.


	2. Lessons

If he had been a bigger snake, or a magical snake, Breeze might have taught Heather many interesting things. Instead, he was a common grass snake, so he taught her what he knew best. Hiding, blending into your surroundings, and choosing the right moment to strike or to flee. The year between when they met and when she started primary school was filled with lessons on blending in to her surroundings and how to avoid the large ones.

  
When September 1 came around, shortly after Heather’s fifth birthday, Petunia banged on the door to her cupboard. “Up girl! School today. Fix breakfast, then lunch for Dudley! UP!!” Her shrill voice echoed in the small boot cupboard.

  
Heather looked over at her friend Breeze. ~You coming? School with lots of other hatchlings like me. But probably no Speakers.~ He hissed quietly, then shook his head, burrowing back into the warm spot she left. She glanced around as she struggled into her jeans. Her cupboard looked much the same as it had before-Breeze, but secretly, it was becoming a very nice nest. They had appropriated a warmer blanket from a neighbor’s donation box when no one was looking, and while it was ratty and pink, it was warmer than anything they’d ever had before. Heather had tossed a small pillow in the cupboard one day when she was tasked with throwing out the old pillows in favor of new. Since she took the trash out right after, she had someone managed not to get caught.  
Heather slipped out of the cupboard, quietly pushing the door shut behind her and walking into the kitchen. She got out the eggs and sausages, then cooked them in two pans, very efficiently. Vernon settled at the table behind her, and popped open the newspaper. She quickly set out a cup of coffee for him and some juice for Dudley, who still wasn’t down. Her shoulders were hunched just a little and her eyes downcast. She had learned that her Uncle would overlook her most of the time if she kept her eyes averted and cowered just a little. Just like the previous days, Vernon ignored her, other than to grumble about the state of the newspaper in her direction. When Petunia when upstairs to wake Dudley again, Vernon shoved his bulk out of the chair and stumped out of the room. Heather used her moment alone to slip a sausage into her pocket.

  
Before long, breakfast was over and she was shoved out the door to walk to school. Dudley had gone on ahead with Piers, and some of the other boys in the neighborhood, so she was free to amble along, nibbling on the sausage she had stolen. The late summer sun shone on her unmanageable dark hair, highlighting it with the deepest blue. She hoped more than anything that school would be different than the Dursleys. Maybe if she tried extra hard, the teachers would like her and she wouldn’t get punished like at home.

School was a whole new world for Heather, with a new kind of blending in. Her kindergarten teacher marveled over her enormous green eyes on the first day, but on the second day, when she caught her reading in the classroom instead of going outside to play at recess, Ms. Davis knew what to do. She had seen how Dudley pushed and shoved his cousin, when she wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way. That day, after lunch, when the other children were running out to play and Heather was slipping over to the story corner to huddle down with the books, Ms. Davis stopped her. “Heather.. I want to show you somewhere special here at school. Follow me.” Swiftly, she led the petite girl, clad in oversized boy’s clothing, to the school library. She walked up to the librarian, an older lady wearing a brown skirt and cream colored jumper, with her dark hair pulled up in a pony tail. “Mrs. Green, this is Heather, one of my new students. She’s a bit advanced in her reading for a kindergartener, and would like to be here instead of on the playground most days.”

  
The woman smiled at Heather and pointed off to the right. “That’s the picture book section, young lady. Read anything you’d like, just make sure that the books come up here to be reshelved. I don’t want them getting mixed up.”

  
Heather couldn’t believe her good luck. No one had ever spoken to her in that soft, kind way that her Aunt spoke to Dudley. School was the BEST! She buried herself in a collection of stories, setting the pattern for the rest of the year. By the time Christmas break came around, she had moved on from the picture books to bigger chapter books. Mrs. Green was her favorite person at the school, introducing her to all sorts of interesting stories, including her latest obsession, C. S. Lewis. On the last day of classes before the break, Mrs. Green stopped her as she headed to her corner. “Heather, before you bury yourself in the stacks, I need you to do something for me.” Heather smiled and nodded, returning to the librarian.

  
“Of course! What do you need? Books sorted? I’m good at alphabeting!” She smiled, eager to please.

  
“Alphabetizing, and no, not today. Work through these sheets for me, please? Ms. Davis said that you can stay here as long as you need to get them finished.” She set a stack of about twenty pages in front of the young girl, and handed her a pencil. Heather nodded and worked through the sheets quickly. The topics ranged from reading to maths to science, and some of them were tricky. After a couple of hours, she walked up to Mrs. Green.

  
“Mrs. Green? These were hard. I didn’t know all the answers, but I did my best.” She felt worn out, and looked longingly at her books in the corner.

  
The librarian smiled. “Go ahead and read for a bit while I review this. You don’t have to go back to your class today.” She flipped through, grading the work and smiled. By the time everyone returned from Christmas break for the second term, Heather would find herself in second grade, well away from Dudley.

Over Christmas, Heather heard a lot of whispering outside her cupboard about her performance in school. One evening, while she was doing the washing up, her aunt and uncle were talking in raised voices in the sitting room. She slowly turned the water down to a trickle so that she could hear while still doing her work. She hadn’t been punished for not behaving since she got the hang of Breeze’s lessons, and she didn’t want to start now.

  
“Vernon, the school has noticed that girl. If we say no, they’ll look at us, and ...” Petunia hissed.

  
“Hm. You’re right Pet. Girls are good at that school stuff, if we let her change classes... None of that freakishness will rub off on our Dudley. Best to let them handle the school business, and we can just make sure she knows her place here.” Vernon said pompously.

  
And with that, it was decided. Heather was greeted at the door of the school and escorted over to the second grade classroom. She was very excited, because second grade was starting more complicated maths and longer chapter books with story diagrams. The best part was that lunch and recess were at a different time than the kindergarten class, so she never saw her cousin while she was at school. By the time Easter hols came, even the students had forgotten that she was three years younger than the rest of them, and just thought of her as a very pretty, tiny second grade student.  
At home, the Dursleys were pretending that nothing had changed. She was still responsible for cleaning the house from top to bottom, cooking all the meals she was home for, maintaining the garden, and helping Petunia with her charitable contributions. Petunia was very active in the local Church Women’s Club, and participated in various drives to knit and sew objects for premature babies. She also helped fill hampers for the homeless around holidays. In reality, all of the “donated” items were created by her five year old niece, whose work was getting better and better.

  
One Saturday, when they were at the charity shop, picking up some undergarments for Heather, she glanced over at her aunt, then at the sheets and curtains sold along one of the walls. “Aunt?” she whispered softly, “Do you think.. If you got me one of those, I could try and make a dress for me.. And I could wear it to the church picnic.” Heather’s heart beat faster as she saw Petunia’s eyebrows knit together in anger, her claw like hand grabbing Heather’s bony shoulder, with only her thin tee shirt to protect her from her aunt’s red manicured nails. “It’s just.. Mrs. Green goes to our church, and she told me that the other ladies were asking about why I dress like a boy all the time, and I didn’t know what to say..” Her voice trailed off at the end as she tried to guess how her guardian would react. _It’s always safer to ask questions in public, and I know I shoulda waited a little longer, but.. Breeze is gonna be so mad at me if I get walloped over some stupid human skin covers. Stupid. Please let this work!!_ She held her breath, wishing as hard as she could, watching as her aunt glanced over at the light pink sheets, then at her niece.

  
“The picnic? Mrs. Green is expecting you to show up there?” Petunia shook her head, then glanced over at the girl’s section. “No. No fabric. Here, pick two dresses. One for church, one for the picnic. You better not get them even a little bit dirty. One stain, and you’re in the cupboard for a week.” Her voice was quiet, but harsh, and her fingernails cut into Heather’s skin. Heather nodded frantically, and gracefully recovered from the shove over to the girls’ dress section. Looking over the dresses, there weren’t many in her size, but there were two just a little bit too big that should work.  
Sitting in the cupboard that evening, her grin was brighter than the light shining in under the door. ~Breeze! It worked! I picked my time, I struck, and I got what I wanted!~  
Her snake friend hissed a laugh, and wound his way up her arm to her shoulders. ~Good job little snakeling. Soon you will eat enough that you shed your skins three times!~  
She smiled. ~Aunt Petunia gave me TWO new human skin covers, and they’re really pretty. I thought she’d only agree to let me try and make one, but she let me pick two. I think Mrs. Green must be magic, because there’s no way she woulda done it otherwise.~ She slept that night, warmed by her triumph.


	3. Practical Application

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This covers the rest of her childhood, up to age 11!

CHAPTER 3

The Dursleys and Heather settled into the new school routine easily.  By the end of the year, Dudley had stopped even trying to chase Heather, because either she managed to hide from him, or teachers caught him and scolded him. It didn’t look right for a big boy like Dudley to chase down and punch a girl as tiny as Heather, and the neighbors wouldn’t turn a blind eye to that.  That summer, Heather continued sewing, cooking, gardening, knitting, and stealing food. She talked the grocer out of some vegetable plants that were mostly dead, and planted them out of sight of the kitchen windows behind the shed. Breeze loved her garden patch, and Heather loved all the food that she was able to make for herself. The cucumbers were her favorites.  They always tasted cool and watery, even on the hottest of days.

As summer drew to a close, Heather came up with a new goal.  She wanted Dudley’s second bedroom. Not to sleep in, the cupboard was just fine for that. It was small and safe, and _hers_ , in a way that nothing else was.  She wanted the second bedroom to be a sewing room for her to use.  She sat in the kitchen, working on taking in a dress for her aunt. It was older, but one of Petunia’s favorites.  She had lost so much weight since Dudley was born, it didn’t fit right anymore, and Heather was fixing it. Right when dinner prep needed to start, Heather sighed, and started packing everything up.  “I wish...” Her aunt walked in, right as the wistful words left her mouth.

“You wish what, girl? Why aren’t you working?” Petunia snapped, frowning at the progress on her dress.

“Aunt Petunia! I’m sorry. I was just... I wish I could set the sewing machine and my projects up somewhere, so I could work on them more. I don’t want to waste your time.” Heather frowned and looked down, then chanced a glance up, making her eyes look big behind her ugly black framed glasses. _Too heavy handed? She doesn’t get it when I hint._ Her aunt frowned at her, then looked at her dress and back to the girl.

“We’ll see. Mrs. Babbs said that the Ladies’ Association needed more quilts and that your-- my quilts were quite nice...” Petunia screwed her face up as she considered, then nodded sharply.  “Yes. After you cook dinner, go upstairs and clean up Dudley’s second bedroom. You can work in there during the day, but no slacking on your other chores! I won’t live in a pig sty, or tolerate your laziness!”

Heather nodded, hunching her shoulders a little, “Yes Aunt Petunia, thank you Aunt Petunia.” She turned, tucking the machine into the closet and her project back into it’s basket. Her grin of triumph was hidden behind her thick wall of curly hair.  

Dudley tried to throw a fit, but Petunia stood firm. She was very close to being nominated for a position on the committee, and she wasn’t going to let “her” contributions suffer, or her dresses. All of the old and broken toys were cleared out, the room was scrubbed, and the sewing machine got set up on the ancient desk.  The wardrobe soon held fabric bought just for the projects that Petunia “requested”. The closet held dresses that Petunia wanted tailored, and a basket to the right of the door was for Dudley and Vernon’s clothing in need of mending.

Heather began third grade, and was thriving. The child the teachers and librarians saw was very different from the wraith that lived at the Dursleys. She was meek and quiet at home, almost fading into the walls.  Her relatives found themselves forgetting that she existed when she was out of sight. At school, she was precocious, sweet, and unfailingly polite.

She still spent her free time in the library, reading everything she could get her hands on.  She found books in the Home Economics section of the school library that year. They covered everything from cooking and clothing design to manners.  They were written in the 1920s, and Heather thought they were very funny. She tried out some of the old fashioned manners in the books at home, and Petunia, for the very first time, stopped and really looked at her niece.  She hummed thoughtfully, frowning. “Girl. Go up and shower. Use the shampoo and conditioner, then put on a dress.”

Heather nodded cautiously, then went to her cupboard, grabbing one of her current three dresses. After showering, she squeezed as much water out of her hair as she could, before cautiously venturing downstairs in her pale green dress.  “Aunt Petunia?” Her eyes were wary, and her shoulders hunched. New things had never been good before, and she didn’t know what to make of this. Her aunt looked at her and nodded to herself.

“Right here, girl. Face the wall.” As soon as Heather was standing in front of her, looking away, her aunt started yanking a comb through her hair. “I am going to braid your hair. You will do it from now on, and keep it looking neat and out of your face. If you can use those pretty manners of yours at the next Garden Club meeting, and act better than that Sarah Swells, then I will let you pick some fabric the next time we go to the store. For your own project.”

Heather nodded, wincing as a particularly bad tangle was ripped through. “Yes, Aunt Petunia.” There was no other answer that would satisfy her aunt.  Her hair was swiftly and tightly pulled back and braided. She ran her fingers down the tail, then looked over her shoulder at her aunt. “Thank you! It’s perfect!” Her eyes sparkled, and her smile lit up the room.  Petunia caught her breath, seeing the girl for the first time in years. It was like a flame glowed within her, just like how her mother had looked. Petunia’s mouth tightened, and she looked away.

“Keep it neat, or else, girl.  Nothing freakish better happen either!” Petunia stomped away.  Heather didn’t let her aunt’s strange mood swing get to her, and just slipped into her cupboard to change back into working clothes. She looked at Breeze, who was curled up near the heating duct that ran through the wall she shared with the kitchen.  ~Petunia is going to get me more supplies!~

Breeze grinned at her. ~Why? Did you strike again?~

~No...  I heard the ladies talking when they were here for bridge and I was in my cupboard. They kept going on and on and on about how polite and nice and pretty Sarah is, and Petunia had nothing to add. I bet I go to more boring parties.~  

Breeze slipped into her lap, cuddling close to her belly as she lay back on her bed. ~Boring. No hunting?~

She smiled, and ran a gentle finger down his head. ~No hunting. But they have food just for the taking at the parties.~

Heather soon became a fixture, charming the other women at the parties, and impressing them with her old fashioned sensibilities. She always made sure to address them correctly, her dresses were spotlessly clean, and she managed to flatter them when they spoke to her.  The other girls usually spent their time gossiping to each other off on the side, but Heather stayed with the older ladies, asking them questions and listening carefully to their answers. Petunia was very pleased.

After the Christmas parties for the Ladies Association, Garden Club, and Women’s Charity Club, Petunia stopped Heather as she went to slip into her cupboard. “Girl. Move your things to the sewing room. You can sleep there. I don’t want any of those old biddies asking about your room when they come over for the bridge party next month.”  Heather smiled. It would be nice to be able to stretch out. Her cupboard was only big enough now if she kept her legs curled up a little, and she kept bruising her shins when she moved in the night. Before Petunia could change her mind, Heather bundled up things, and settled into her new room. Breeze wrapped around her waist inside her shirt to get up to the sewing room. He was a meter long now, and too big to fit around her wrist.  

That began a new era for Heather. No longer was she able to fade into the background at home.  Aunt Petunia enrolled her in all the lessons that the other girls were taking, starting with piano, then ballet, then French. Of course, the chores didn’t lessen because of all the extra curriculars, she just had to be faster.  Aunt Petunia did stop Uncle Vernon and Dudley from hitting her, though. Bruises were too easy to see in her dancing costume, and she wouldn’t abide questions from teachers or other women in the neighborhood. The last thing she wanted were whispers.  

This didn’t mean that Heather was treated kindly.  Her aunt groomed her to be the perfect little doll. Wound up and set out at the parties, then tucked away on a shelf at home. She was expected to charm everyone so that Petunia could bask in the reflected glory. Her pretty dresses were only doled out when an important guest would be visiting.  The rest of the time, she wore t-shirts she cut down from Dudley, and denim skirts she pieced out of his jeans and embroidered. Heather didn’t really mind it, though. She remembered the time before, when her backside was covered in bruises from being paddled for freakish things that happened near her. She remembered the teacup that froze, centimeters from the ground, before landing with a quiet clink. The teacup didn’t survive when she was thrown into it, and the barely visible scars on her hands reminded her of that, every time she looked at them.  But now that she was on display more frequently, her punishments were less visible. She was forced to stand in the corner, holding two large bibles out at arms length, while keeping her nose a centimeter from the wall, until her arms shook enough that the books fell. The worst punishments were always for freakish things.

One spring evening when she was eight, she whispered to Breeze, while they cuddled in their nest in the sewing room. ~Breeze, I think the freakish stuff... I think it’s Magic. I read about it. Remember the witch from Narnia? And the Lion, I guess. But the witch.  No one messed with her. I want to be powerful like her. She got what she wanted, until that lion ruined it.~ Breeze cuddled close, winding his coils through her fingers.

~If it’s Magic, then can you make it work?~ And that began the Magic Experiment. Heather sat up in bed, looked down at Breeze, and nodded.

~I’m gonna find out. And then they’ll see.~  She looked around at the dark room, only a little bit of light coming in from the streetlight out front. _Light. I’m going to make a light.  But no fire, not yet._ She looked down at her hands, cupping them together in her lap as she set cross legged in the center of the bed. _Every story I’ve read says that you have to breathe right, and focus on your insides, and then picture it.  And then it happens._ So she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, in, then out.  In, then out. And envisioned reaching towards the warm spot right above her stomach, and a small ball of light in her hands.  She opened her eyes, and there was nothing. Not to be deterred, she tried again, then again, with nothing but a headache rewarding her. Sweat trickled down her back, and her head pounded in time with her pulse. Finally, after at least a dozen tries, when she opened her eyes, she saw it; a glimmer of light, the size of a pea, cradled in her hands.  The glow was yellow, like the sun just before sunset. She gasped, and it popped out of existence, not even leaving a warm spot on her hand. ~I DID IT!!~ If it was possible to yell in parseltongue, Heather was yelling. Luckily, it was more of a very excited hissing sound than a real yell, because if she woke her relatives up because she did magic, she wouldn’t see the sun for a week.  

~You did! Clever snakeling. Rest time now, though. Lay down and cuddle me.~  She did, a happy glow in her chest. Her head was still pounding, and she felt weak and sleepy.  The excitement of making magic happen was worth it, though.

The next day, she discovered that if she paid attention, she could feel that warmth moving towards her hands when she started to get angry or scared. She could feel it, and since she could feel it, she could stop it, or slow it down.  

That day, when the tea cup fell, it just shattered.  She could feel her magic reaching for the cup as it slipped off the edge of the counter, and she yanked it back inside to her center.  Her eyes were huge as she looked at the cup, then snuck a peek at Uncle Vernon in the next room. He was engrossed with the telly and just yelled over his shoulder, “Clean that up, you freak!”  She did, a tiny smile on her face. If she could make it happen and make it not happen, what else could she do?

Through the rest of spring and early summer, she spent her time in the school library, reading every fantasy book about magic that she could. Once school let out, she started haunting the public library, where she discovered books about real magic.  The magic she found was called Wicca, and it seemed a little weird, but worth trying. There were books about New Age Philosophy, the healing power of crystals, meditation, and the history of witchcraft. These books were buried in the back section of the library, close to the emergency exit on a shelf near the ground. It didn’t look like any of them had ever been opened for more than putting the library jackets and stickers on them.  Heather pulled one out and retreated to her favorite hidden corner to read. Most of the books didn’t make a lot of sense to her, but the one on meditation was easy to follow. She practiced meditating every night, and it seemed to make it easier to control the power in her center.

Just after school let out for the summer there was a garden party for Vernon’s work. Unlike most of the parties Heather attended, Vernon and Dudley were coming too, and she was stiff with nerves.  She sat in the backseat, and tried to stay calm as Dudley started poking her in the side, harder and harder. She could feel the energy pulsing through her finger tips, almost sparking out of her. She closed her eyes, trying to sink into her meditation.  As the tension started to release from her shoulders, her magic stopped sparking. Instead, it was flowing through her, and wrapped around her. It felt like sinking into a warm bath after a day working outside in the cold. Feeling returned to her fingers and toes, and the last bits of stress fell away from her. _Oh, wow, this feels amazing.  I wish Dudley would just forget about me until we get there, I just want to be left alone._ A tiny wisp of her magic slipped out of her grasp, and brushed over Dudley’s face.  He stopped, glanced around with a look of confusion on his face, then turned to look out the window.

“Are we ever going to get there? This is BORING!” He complained from beside her.  Heather looked over at him, and noticed a bit of gold magic wrapped around his head.   _That’s strange.. I’ve never seen my magic with my eyes open before. I thought I was just imagining it._ She glanced down at her hands, where she could feel the magic coiling through her fingers.  Sure enough, liquid gold poured around her fingers, sparkling in the early summer sunlight. She smiled again, admiring her magic. As she took a deep breath, she could smell it.  Her magic smelled of cut grass and lemons. The scent was so strong, she could taste it.

 _I wonder... If I made him forget me just now.. Have I been using this on Petunia and Vernon?_ She studied her relatives carefully, and soon enough was able to spot some gold sparks in their hair.  Vernon had more than Petunia, but both had enough to lighten the color of their hair. _If I can make them leave me alone and give me what I need all the time... Maybe I can be safe.  They’ll never love me, but if I can make it so no one ever hurts me again, and I get dinner every night. I better be careful, though. This is way worse freakishness than fixing a broken cup. If they figure it out..._ She shuddered, which dropped her out of her meditative trance. She couldn’t see the gold as easily anymore, but she could catch a glimpse from the corner of her eye. _This means I need to practice._  

One thing that Heather never lacked was determination to finish a task once she had set her sights on it.  She was a competent ballet dancer, a very capable pianist, and quickly approaching fluency in French, even though she had no real gift with any of the classes. Study and practice compensated. Magic was no different.  She worked every day on controlling the flow of magic through her body. At the same time, she practiced meditating, and watching her magic. She tried channeling it into objects, but all it did was make them a little warmer. Most importantly, she worked on adjusting her family’s reactions to her. She nudged Vernon and Dudley to think about her less, and Petunia to see how convenient Heather was. At school, she tried projecting an aura of innocence, in order to rouse her teacher’s protective instincts. That turned out to even work on some of the bullies. They found themselves coddling the still petite girl, who was so much younger than them.  

Since she started secondary school at 9, and was so much smaller than the average child, Petunia allowed her to do correspondence courses for the beginning of secondary school. Being able to work at her own pace, she blossomed. By the time she was ten, she was working on Year 10 material for most subjects. Being able to memorize books with one reading helped enormously with the lower levels, until more complex thought was required.  Petunia enjoyed having Heather home all day, as that meant she could spend her time visiting her college girlfriends, and come home to a hot dinner five minutes before Vernon got home from work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the last two chapters were too short, so I wanted to try out a longer one. Let me know what you think! Next chapter will include her letter!


	4. Diagon Alley, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather turns 11, gets a letter, and visits Diagon Alley!

CHAPTER 4

The week before Heather turned eleven, it felt like the whole world was holding its breath. The summer was hot and humid, and it hadn’t stormed in what felt like months. She could feel the storms growing, just out of sight, but the sky was still blue, the air still and hot. The pavement sizzled where the neighbor’s sprinkler overshot into the street. Heather walked home from the grocery store, pausing just a second so that the sprinkler hit her as she passed. She sighed with relief.  Her hair was pulled back into two french braids, and her glasses were the same black frames that she had when she was five, since they were the cheapest available at the charity shop. She was wearing a dress she made out of one of Dudley’s old football jerseys and a pair of keds she had decorated with markers and glitter. The jersey dress was dark green and came to her knees. She had nipped in the sides to give it an a-line shape, while keeping it loose enough to hide her still boyish figure.  Not getting much food to eat at home meant she was very petite, and most people guessed she was 9 instead of almost 11.

As she approached the house, an owl swooped past her head, and landed on the branch of a tree next to her. She stopped, looked around, then set down the shopping as she walked over to the owl. It was a brown barn owl, and it had a letter, tied to it’s ankle.  She carefully reached out her hand for the letter, watching the vicious looking beak carefully. “Hey there, lovely... Is that .. mail? For me?” The owl held still, except the leg with the letter, which it extended towards her. She tugged on the bow, and the letter fell into her hands. The envelope felt heavy and strange in her hands. She flipped it over to look at the back, and there was a red wax seal. It looked like a knight’s shield had been stamped into it, one with four parts. She flipped it back over to the front, and saw in looping green cursive, “Miss H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

 _My bedroom? Who sent this? Who knows where my bedroom is, and why are they watching me?_ Her stomach felt ice cold. No one had any reason to think about where she was sleeping. She shivered, remembering all the men with eyes that pried and stared too long.  The teacher when she was finishing up Primary, before she started being homeschooled, who always stood a little too close to the girls. The one who would rest his hand on her shoulder every chance he had.  One of the neighbors drove past, and waved at her, eyeing her abandoned groceries with concern. Heather jumped, and scrambled to pick them up and start on her way home. She shoved the letter into the pocket she added to her dress, and decided to open it later.

That evening, she couldn’t focus on making sure that her Aunt remembered to feed her, and was sent to bed without anything to eat.  All she could think about was the letter, sitting heavy in her pocket, sharp corners pressing into her stomach when she sat down. As soon as she was in her room alone, she popped open the seal with trembling fingers.  She pulled the two pages out and stared in disbelief. _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Albus Dumbledore?  Supreme Mugwump?? How is that real?_ Her face paled as she read it.  Her aunt and uncle would never let her go to a school for magic.  She closed her eyes, centering herself, then looked at the letter again.  She could clearly see broken bands of green magic on the seal of the letter. _This is the first time I’ve seen someone else’s magic._ Slowly she blinked, looked at the letter, then blinked again.   _It’s all real. And I’m not the only one who can do this stuff.  I really am a witch!_ A real grin spread across her face, straining her cheeks in an unfamiliar way. She looked down again, then at the second page, which turned out to be a list of supplies.  She stayed up most of the night, planning her offensive for the morning. Somehow, she had to talk to Petunia about Hogwarts. There was no way she was going to let this chance slip through her fingertips.  Sadly, she glanced over at the pillow that Breeze used to sleep on. _I know it was time for him to start his family, but I wish he was here to talk about this._ She laughed softly, _I know what he’d tell me, though. He’d tell me to wait for the right moment, and strike._

The next morning, she cooked breakfast like always, and kept a subtle eye on Petunia. She had to pick the right time, or else it would be far more difficult than it needed to be.  Keeping an eye on Petunia was harder than normal, though, because Petunia was studying her in return.

“Girl. Did you get the mail yesterday?” her aunt asked sharply.  Petunia eyed her niece with a gimlet stare over the top of her morning tea. The two of them were alone in the kitchen, as Vernon was still showering and Dudley asleep.  

Heather’s breath caught in her throat, and she turned to look at her aunt, cautiously.  “Why.. Why do you ask, Aunt?” Her hands trembled a little, as she quickly turned back to mind the eggs.

“You got a letter, didn’t you?  From that Freak School,” Petunia sneered. Heather nodded, hunching her shoulders a little as she poured the scrambled eggs onto a platter. She took a deep breath, and started sending out calming energy, hoping it would help prevent the worst.  

“What ... you mean you expected me to get a letter yesterday? From a school? But--” Heather took another deep breath, trying to focus on her magic and not on her aunt, but it was harder than it had been in years. _She knew about magic.  She knew. And she didn’t tell me anything, just left me to figure it all out and punished me for everything._ Her mouth tightened, and she looked back down at the bacon frying in the pan. Her anger spun her magic out from her center, lashing out into the room.  The light flickered once, then twice, before she finally reeled it back in. Her teeth were clenched hard enough to creak, and her eyes glowed with rage. She carefully kept her face pointed at the stove, not wanting her aunt to catch a glimpse of her unguarded emotions.

“How did I know? You’re just like your freak of a mother. Precious Lily, everyone’s favorite. Everyone loved her, and then she got that letter!  Came home every summer, bragging about all the things she could do, all the _magic_ she had learned! Disgusting.” Petunia’s words pounded against Heather, but she continued cooking breakfast on autopilot.  “If you go to that school, you’d better never come back here again. We don’t need your freakishness here!”

Heather nodded, plated up the bacon, and started on cleaning up the pans as Vernon thundered down the stairs. Petunia quickly stopped talking, and just glared at her niece. _I have to go. I can’t stay here, knowing that there’s more out there than this. I have to take this chance. Maybe.. Maybe after ten months away, she’ll want me back to do the sewing again. If not..  I can keep house on my own. I know how to clean, cook, sew... Maybe I can find someone who would let me stay with them, if I do a lot of chores in exchange._

As soon as she could slip away, Heather hurried up to her room and grabbed a piece of notebook paper and a biro.

_Deputy Headmistress,_

_I hereby accept my placement at your school.  I have a few questions, though. Where can I purchase these supplies? I don’t know any shops selling anything like that.  Also, is there a scholarship available? My aunt and uncle will not pay for this school, or any supplies._

 

_I await your response,_

_Heather Potter_

 

She quickly folded up her letter and put it in a plain white envelope.  She addressed it as completely as she could, and walked out into the garden.  She held the letter up, and whispered, “Owl?” Out of the tree she could see from her bedroom window, a brown barn owl swooped down and plucked the letter from her fingers.

 

oOo

In a castle in Scotland, an old man with a long grey beard tucked into his belt looked over half moon glasses and worked on a charm to put a dozen letters in a dozen eggs.   _I never get to work on clever prank charms like this anymore._ He hummed happily to himself as he worked on designing more and more complex ridiculous ways of sending a letter to one Miss Potter.

Up in one of the towers, a stern looking older woman with her hair up in a bun leaned over her desk, working on lesson plans for the coming year.  A brown owl flew in through the open window, dropping a muggle envelope on the page she was writing on. She shot a quick glare at the owl before she looked down and saw the return address.   _Miss H Potter!  Heather!_ She quickly opened the letter and frowned as she read through her response. _It sounds like she hasn’t been told anything.  Now, who should I send to take her shopping?_ Professor McGonagall walked over to the headmaster’s office, but he had the gargoyle set to turn away everyone except in case of emergency.  She shook her head, and changed direction, heading down to the only other teacher still in residence, Severus Snape. While Dumbledore was busy creating prank letter charms, Minerva worked on convincing Severus to take a quick trip to Surrey.  Surprisingly, as soon as she mentioned that Heather had been raised by her muggle relatives, he conceded the argument.

 

At nine the next morning, while she was working on a quilt in her work room, there was a knock on the door.  Everyone else was away, so Heather quickly ran down the stairs to open the door. Standing on her front porch was a man with dark, greasy looking hair, a sallow complexion, a large beak of a nose.  He was wearing black trousers and shoes, with a black jacket over top. He stared at her grimly. “Miss... Potter?” he sneered.

Heather blinked several times, then smiled prettily at him.  “I’m sorry sir, but who are you?” Wary, she kept ahold of the doorknob, and stood back just a bit to be out of easy grabbing range. She smoothed her embroidered denim skirt, and looked up at him through her eyelashes, keeping a close eye on his hands and eyes.  

“I am Professor Severus Snape, you may call me Professor Snape. I represent Hogwarts School, and am here because of your... letter.” The last word was said with as much disdain as Heather had heard in one simple word.  She nodded, and stepped aside.

“Thank you, sir, for coming to help me.  I thought I might get a letter, I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.  Would you like something to drink?” She gestured towards the kitchen.  “My Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are out right now, but I could make a cup of tea if you’d like?”  She smiled at him, hoping that the manners that charmed the old ladies at the Garden Club would help with this incredibly grumpy man.

He looked at her searchingly, then glanced around the house, noting the pictures of a family of three, none of which had dark curly hair done up in a long braid down her back like the girl in front of him.  While the girl did have black hair like her father, along with the same style of round glasses, her green eyes were just like her mother’s, only somehow more striking, almost seeming to glow. He frowned to himself, trying to figure out who she reminded him of, until it suddenly hit him.  She looked a little like Regulus Black. “Did you say.. Petunia?” He raised one eyebrow, looking down at her sternly.

“Yes, sir.  Petunia Dursley is my aunt.  She was my mother’s sister, before my mum died in a car accident.” Heather kept an eye on him, still standing just out of arms reach, casually making sure that she had line of sight on the back door for a quick exit if needed.  Carefully, she called up her meditation state, and looked at him to see if he had any magic. Immediately, she noticed a silvery sheen twisting around him. It seemed to concentrate on his right hand, and didn’t have near as much wildness as her magic.  It looked ... tamed. The difference between horses galloping around a field, and horses harnessed to a plow, working to a common purpose. She blinked, looking back at his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Your parents didn’t die in a car wreck, girl. Sit down, I’ll only tell you this once.” Immediately, Heather sat at the kitchen table.  She knit her hands together on her lap and looked down at them, then over at him. “Eleven years ago, there was a war in the Wizarding world.  A Dark Lord had risen, and seemed bent on slaughter. Your parents chose to fight. Halloween, 1981, the Dark Lord tracked them down. Both of your parents were murdered that evening.”  He spoke with clinical detachment, watching the child in front of him. Heather just nodded, the only sign of her distress the white knuckles where her hands were clamped together in her lap.  In spite of himself, Snape was impressed with her control over her face. Her back was still straight and her eyes dry. “He tried to kill you, too. Inexplicably, he failed. You lived, and he was dead.  You were dubbed a hero that night, The Girl-Who-Lived.”

Heather wrinkled her nose, frowning slightly.  “I’m famous? For something that happened when I was a baby? That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

Snape snorted, “Agreed. But the war was bloody and terrifying, and that evening it ended. Now, get your things, I’ll take you to Diagon Alley to pick up your school supplies.”  

Heather nodded.  “I’ll be right back, professor. I.. I don’t have any money, though.  I asked the Deputy Headmistress about a scholarship. Is there some money available?”

He looked at her, disbelief clear on his face.  “Just what have you been taught, girl? Your father, Lord James Potter, left you plenty of money for your schooling, and probably the rest of your life and your children’s lives.”

Heather held on to her composure by her fingernails. Her eyes darkened, and she looked down at her homemade clothes and secondhand shoes. “I was taught how to cook, clean, and sew.” Her voice was cold and flat, and her eyes hard as she stared at him.  She bit the inside of her cheek, swallowed hard, and looked down, then back at the dour man staring at her in disbelief. “My apologies, professor. I’ll get my bag and leave a note for Aunt Petunia.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, then gave a sharp nod to her as she turned and went up to her room.   _That girl doesn’t know anything. A car wreck! Tuney has got a lot to answer for._ He pulled a scrap piece of parchment out of a pocket, along with a quill, and began to note down books that would help her catch up with her peers.   _She looks enough like Regulus, Potter, and Lily that she could be all of theirs.  Well, her Grandmother was a Black. And that mutt... Regulus’s brother._ He sneered to himself while noting down titles. 

Heather returned, quickly wrote a note to her Aunt, and placed it on the kitchen table.  “I’m ready, sir.” She smiled pleasantly, using her best manners. She tucked all thoughts about her parents, the war, and a murder she had supposedly committed before potty training away, to deal with after shopping.

Snape stood, shoved the parchment at her, and led her out into the backyard.  “Grab hold of my arm. You’ll need to hold tight, no matter how strange it feels.  We’re going to apperate to Diagon.” He gestured with his wand, and his jacket changed into a long robe, closed with dozens of buttons up the front, and down the sleeves. For the first time, Heather stepped closer, taking the offered elbow.  She slipped an arm through his, then grabbed hold with the other hand too. She took a deep breath, and just as she was about to ask what next, he turned them sharply on his heel, and with a loud crack, they disappeared. She felt like she was being shoved through a too tight tube, everything compressing and stretching at the same time.  Just when she thought she was about to lose her grip on his arm, they landed in the back garden of what seemed to be a pub in London.

She groaned, falling to her knees as soon as they landed. Her shoulders shook as she tried to keep her breakfast behind her teeth.  As soon as she thought she could, she struggled to her feet. Snape just watched her, giving her a chance to compose herself. Heather leaned over, brushing off her knees, making sure she wasn’t bleeding.  “That was awful. How can you stand doing that?” Disbelief was clear in her voice and on her face as she looked up at the tall man next to her.

He smirked at her, “It does get easier, especially when you do it yourself.  Unfortunately for you, you won’t be able to try that until you’re 17. This is the back of the Leaky Cauldron.  It’s in London, near Charing Cross. We’re going to fetch everything on your list today, so you won’t need to come back.”  He looked her over, and nodded. “If you want to avoid notice and get the necessary business handled quickly, you’ll want to make sure your fringe is covering that scar.”

Heather’s eyes widened, and she quickly finger combed her hair into place.  She had always wondered about the lightning bolt shaped scar over her eye. No amount of make up was able to completely conceal it, as even now it was as raised and angry looking as when she appeared on her aunt’s doorstep.  She closed her eyes, sank into her magic, and allowed just a little bit to circulate around her. Quietly, her magic whispered, “Look past me, just another child, no need to look at me.” Her eyes opened and she smiled a little at the professor.  “I’m ready now, sir.”

He nodded, his eyebrows arching as he felt her magic whispering.  It wasn’t as powerful as a Notice-me-not charm, but it was a clever bit of magic for a young witch with no training.  It seemed to push at him to look away, not too close. Only a sensitive witch or wizard would even notice it if they weren’t looking, the magic was so subtle.  Pleased at her choice, he bestowed a slight smile on her, and tapped the bricks in the proper order to enter Diagon.

Allowing only a moment for her to gawk at the bustling street, he led her quickly to the large crooked white building at the end of the street.  “Gringotts Bank. It’s run by goblins. Best treat them with respect, or else you’ll see what they’re capable of,” he said curtly.

Heather nodded, her eyes huge as she tried to take in everything and keep pace with the much taller man.  They entered the building, and she nodded politely to the guards when they walked past. Her eyes lingered on the large axes the door guardians were holding, and she deepened the nod just a little, until it was nearly a bow.  The goblins exchanged a glance with each other, full of speculation, as she crossed under the poem warning thieves to caution.

Professor Snape chose to remain above ground while Heather rode down to her vault with a goblin named Griphook.  The cart ride was exhilarating, and she was glowing with excitement when she stumbled out and over to the vault. “You do that all day?! How many wizards get sick? Do you get to bet on how whiney the rich snooty ones get?”  The words spilled out of her, her eyes sparkling with mirth and just a hint of her bloodthirsty nature.

Griphook showed his sharpened teeth in a truly disturbing smile.  Heather just grinned back at him, not at all intimidated. Her first friend was a snake, and she was used to seeing fangs bared in humor.  He grumbled a little bit of a laugh, then nodded, “Sometimes... The little lordlings might get a bit upset with the ride provided. And if we happen to be running a study to see exactly which ones are upset by which turns? Well that’s just research, and no one can object to research!” She laughed, pure joy echoing through the caverns.

“I would dearly love to see your research at some point in the future, Sir Griphook!” With that she curtseyed neatly to him.  

He chuckled, then turned to the vault door.  “You’re an interesting one, Heiress Potter. You.. I might share my research with.”  She frowned just a little in puzzlement.

“Heiress? Is that a title here?” Her confusion was clear in her voice.

Griphook turned away from the door he was about to unlock, frowning in concern.  “Child... What do you know about your position here?” His voice showed his worry clearly.

“Um.  I learned about magic yesterday when I got my Hogwarts letter, and today Professor Snape told me that I have money because my father was a Lord? But I don’t really know what a Lord of Magic World would do, or anything.” She started rambling, feeling very worried about his reaction.

His shoulders dropped, and he studied the ground, before looking back at her.  “You have been done a disservice, child. I’ll give you a list of books that you can buy when you do your shopping today.  But tomorrow, can you come back here? You need to meet your account manager.” With that, he finally opened the vault.

Heather blinked at the piles of gold, silver, and bronze coins, straight out of a fantasy novel’s idea of a dragon’s hoard.  “Um. Sir Griphook, how much will I need to take? Do I have to come back here for more every time I want to buy something?”

“I’ll sell you a bag that links directly here for 3 Galleons.” After a quick rundown of the currency conversions and comparison to Muggle pounds, she nodded. “You reach your hand in, and think of how much you need, and it will appear.  If you think in muggle currency, that’s what you’ll get.” He showed her how to seal it to her blood, and reminded her to never let anyone else touch her vault key.

 

She met back up with her professor, looking windruffled and entirely too excited for his tastes.  They left the bank, and went to Ollivanders. After trying just about every wand in the shop, she left with a holly wand, with a very famous brother, and a promise of great things to come.  Shrugging off the shivers his story gave her, she looked at her annoyed professor. “Sir? You really don’t have to stay with me all day. I’ve got my list, money, and I know my way home. I can do the rest of the shopping on my own.  You’ve really been a lot of help already, and... I know you have more important things to do.” She smiled at him, projecting an aura of competence and reliability.

He sighed a little, looking at her.  “I do have other business to handle. Alright. You go, get your robes, trunk, and books. I will be at the apothecary in two hours, and I expect you to be there then.  We’ll get some lunch at that point, and I’ll escort you home. I’m not leaving a child to find her way back out of London on her own.” He grumbles under his breath, wishing he could just leave Potter’s brat here, but knowing that Minerva would never let him hear the end of it if he tried.

Heather smiled and nodded.  “Thank you, sir! I’ll see you then.” She quickly turned, and headed to the trunk shop. As soon as her back was turned, he strode towards the shady entrance to Knockturn Alley, intent on his errands.  She chanced a glance over her shoulder, and smiled to herself as she saw him actually leaving her on her own. _Now’s my chance! I need to look around here without a babysitter.  I need a map so I can find this place on my own tomorrow, too._

Her grin grew, and she walked into the shop, Belkin’s Bags and More.  The building, like many others on this street, was far bigger on the inside than it looked like on the outside.  The storefront was only about 10 paces across on the outside, but it went back hundreds of meters. She couldn’t see the far wall of the building when she walked in.  There were stacks and stacks of trunks, in every color and design imaginable on her right, and collections of various bags, tents, and more on her left.

Directly in front of her as she walked in was a pile of plain brown leather and wooden steamer style trunks, labeled “Hogwarts Special, single compartment trunk, 1 galleon.” Just past those, however, was a pedestal, with a light shining down on a single, black leather trunk with silver fittings. “Brand new! Three Bedroom Trunk, with extra security! See Associate for price.”

“Rooms?  You can have rooms in a trunk?” She whispered to herself, before walking over to the trunk to try and peek inside.  She stretched out her hand to touch the slick black leather, and a man interrupted her thoughts.

“New student? Trunks like these are an investment, young lady.  Not for the casual purchase. You might be better served with one of our more reasonably priced options...” He gestured off to the side, to trunks with a hand lettered sign stating that they held four compartments, with top of the line security.

“How can you fit three rooms into one trunk? Can you run out of air in there?” Her eyes focused intently on the salesman, her magic beginning to swirl around her with her excitement. For the first time all day, her control over the look-away vibes slipped.

Mr. Belkin’s eyes widened, as the air seemed to become more charged and her eyes glowed. “It’s called wizard space.  Careful application of runes and charms means we can do ‘most anything we want with a simple trunk. You can take classes on runes once you’re third year, but if you’re that excited about it, you could probably grab a book or two today.  But! Trunks. It sounds like you want one with a room. How much space do you need?”

She nods, frowning.  “Well, I think a sewing room and kitchenette would be enough. Oh! But do you have ones with bathing facilities?” She blushed a little, but excitement over the possibilities pushed her through.

He hummed, nodding.  “I think I know just the thing.”  He led her down the endless seeming aisle, to a section of trunks.  “In addition to the standard four compartments, all of these have a bedroom, bathroom, kitchenette and study.  The new three bedroom ones up there, those are full houses. This is more like a London flat in size. Take a look! I’ll wait out here for you. The basic compartments include a wardrobe, library, potions storage, and general storage.  All are tied to the equivalent fixtures in the apartment.” He opened a blue trunk after tapping the lock and saying “flat” and gestured for her to climb down the steep stairs inside.

She grinned at him and quickly darted down the steep and narrow steps.  She stepped out into what must be the study. The walls were white, with empty built in bookshelves along one wall.  The floors were whitewashed wood, and there was no other furniture. Opening a door to the left, she discovered a small kitchen. There was just enough space for a cooktop, cold box, cupboards, and sink.  There was also a small island, that looked like it could fit four bar stools. Oddly, there was a window above the sink that let in light, but didn’t have a view.

Back through the study, the only other door led to the bedroom.  This room was a little smaller than the study, but still larger than even Petunia and Vernon’s bedroom. There was a small bathroom, tiled in white, attached to the bedroom.   _This would be perfect. If I had something like this, I could work on whatever projects I wanted to when I was at Hogwarts, and no one could mess with me.  Maybe I could even live here over the summer. It’d be strange to live in a trunk, but Lucy found a whole world inside a wardrobe, so really, this is nothing. I have to have it._ Desire and hope lit up in her heart, and she grinned fiercely. _Imagine! I’m a Witch, and I’ll have a small kingdom of my own that I can carry with me everywhere.  It’s small yet, but someday.. I wonder if I can have a whole world inside a trunk?_

She left the trunk shop, with a new dark green trunk with gold fittings shrunken in her green leather bag.  The trunk had every security feature available, including her favorite: Muggle Repellant. The bag was also feather light and expands, but not as much as the trunk.  Apparently there were a few rules, with magic, but Mr. Belkin wasn’t very clear on where those lines were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was tough finding a place to wrap this up, but Diagon Alley was too big for just one chapter. Next time, she'll finish her shopping and meet some new people. I'm currently still about 20 pages ahead of where I'm posting, so expect the next chapter soon. Maybe Wednesday again, biweekly is good as long as I'm ahead enough. I just can't wait to get her to school!


	5. Diagon Alley, Part 2!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather finishes her shopping, and meets the Malfoys

CHAPTER 5

Next, she stopped by the robe shop.  Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.  As she entered the shop, a bell chimed overhead.  An older lady bustled over to her, and quickly had her standing on a stool, measuring her without touching the tape.  Heather glanced over to see a young boy perched on the stool next to her. His hair was the lightest blond she had ever seen, and his face had a pinched, sharp look to it.  She saw him sneak a glance up and down her, then meet her eyes. “Hogwarts, too?” She smiled and nodded at him, using the open and friendly smile that always worked best on the teens she would meet at the various social functions.  He rambled on about the houses, before detouring into a discussion of Quidditch, some sort of wizard sport. Heather listened intently, smiling and agreeing with him periodically to keep him talking.  _ He sounds kind of nervous, but he looks and sounds like he’s rich, probably well connected.  He could be useful. _ She thought to herself.  She concentrated on her magic, slowly extending a bit of a calming tendril towards him.  The moment that her magic touched his aura, he took a deep breath and blinked rapidly. Ignoring the protests of the lady marking the hem for his robe, he looked at her more closely and smiled.  “Anyways. My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” and he extended his hand across the gap.

Heather returned his smile, and shook his hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Malfoy.  I’m Heather Potter.” The two ladies working on their robes both gasped, looking up at the children.  Madam Malkin glared her assistants into silence and just smiled at the children. Very quickly, both were measured and helped down from their stools.  The dark haired girl went to look around the store, picking out more things for her wardrobe and studying the construction of robes versus dresses, while Draco sauntered up to the register to pay. 

“Who are you here with, then?” he drawled.  “My mother is down at Flourish and Blotts, waiting on me. Father is picking out an owl.” His eyes lit up brightly when he mentioned his parents.  Heather felt a pang of jealousy, but quickly hid it under her smile.

“Oh, Professor Snape took me to Gringotts, and we’re meeting back up at the apothecary in a couple hours.  I didn’t want to take up too much of his time, you know?” She looked over at him, picking up the summer robe she was considering and ambling back over.

“Professor Snape? That’s brilliant! He’s my godfather, you know. You should come meet my parents, and then we can all get lunch together.” He attempted to sound disaffected, but Heather could feel the loneliness in his aura, so she just returned his smile and nodded.  

“That sounds lovely, Draco.”  His eyes sparkled as she referred to him so familiarly. He waited while she paid for her uniform, plus quite a few other outfits.  After she paid, Madam Malkin offered her a catalogue, and promised that her new robes would all be ready in three hours. Heather turned towards her new blond friend, linked her arm through his, and said, “Lead on, kind sir! The books await!”  Draco laughed, a high, silvery sort of laugh, and led the her to Flourish and Blotts.

The duo chatted and sauntered down the street, drawing far more attention than Heather did on her own. The calming aura she sent Draco had replaced the look away vibe, and she had relaxed the calming as soon as he started speaking normally. She still remembered the time she overused her emotion control vibes and ended up with a migraine as well as a beating.  She wasn’t going to risk that again. Caught up in the pleasant conversation, Heather didn’t even notice the eyes on her. Draco ushered her into the bookshop, and immediately led her over to his mother. “Mother! Let me introduce my new friend, Heather Potter to you. Heather, this is my mother, Lady Narcissa Malfoy.” 

The dark haired girl slipped her arm free of Draco’s, and curtseyed.  “Lady Malfoy, it’s a pleasure. Your son has been a wonderful help.” She kept her tone light, and smiled prettily at the blond woman in front of her.  She admired Narcissa’s light blue dress, noting the way she wore it, with an open silver over-robe coming just past the knee length skirt of the dress. 

Lady Malfoy pursed her lips slightly in consideration, as she looked the girl up and down.  Her clothing was obviously muggle, but showed a bit of creativity. The embroidery on the denim skirt was tasteful.  Her dark, wild curls were confined tightly in a braid, and her manners were good, if unpolished. She nodded, and smiled politely. “It’s my pleasure, Heiress Potter. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Heather’s brow knit in thought, but she kept the smile in place. “Please, call me Heather.  You’re the mother of my first friend, so it’s only right.” 

Narcissa’s eyes widened, and her smile grew slightly more brittle.  “We’re also cousins, child. I petitioned to meet you, but the courts denied my rights.”

Draco cut in quickly, “You did? I didn’t know about that--” With a quick gesture, Narcissa cut him off.

“But this is neither the time nor the place to discuss family business.  Perhaps we can meet later this week?” She glanced around subtly as she spoke to the young girl, making sure that no one had gotten any closer to them.

“Draco said that we could perhaps have lunch together after we’re done shopping? Professor Snape is escorting me,” Narcissa quickly agreed, and Heather slipped off into the stacks, holding the list of books for the school, the ones from Professor Snape, and the rather more extensive list from the goblins.  Draco remained up front with his mother, as she had already purchased his school books. 

Heather finally got to the counter, with at least triple the normal school books, including several on politics, pureblood etiquette, sewing, runes, arithmancy, Hogwarts a History, law, and modern history.  Draco’s eyes bugged out when he saw her stack of books. “Merlin, Heather, did you leave any books for the rest of us? Going Ravenclaw?”

Heather grinned at him, not at all bothered by the teasing. “I’ve got until September first to figure out all the things that you grew up knowing. This whole world is so different from the muggle one I grew up in, I just want to be ready.  What if I insult someone by accident, just because the customs are different?” 

Narcissa smiled, and gently squeezed her son’s shoulder. “Well said, young lady.” She paused, as if she wanted to say more, but then shook her head and the moment passed. Heather paid, snagged a catalogue, and loaded the books into her trunk.  The trio walked out of the store, towards the Owl Emporium. 

“Lady Malfoy, would you recommend I get an owl? The idea of my own mail carrier seems very pleasant.”  Heather was on Narcissa’s left, while Draco walked on her right. With the adult escorting them, people no longer stared so obviously. 

“Please, call me Aunt Cissa. We are family, after all.” Heather gave Narcissa a blinding smile, full of joy, and nodded.  “An owl is a very useful pet. A loyal owl won’t allow anyone to touch your mail, and will ensure safe delivery in both directions.  Of course, there are school owls, but I abhor the risk of a public owl.” The last two words dripped with disdain, and Narcissa sneered them.  “We’re picking up Draco’s owl next, perhaps one will suit you.”

_ Family! _ Heather thought.  _ Imagine, calling someone aunt who wants me around.  I hope that they mean it.  _ She dipped into her meditation thought-space, and eased out a tendril of her magic, sending it towards Aunt Cissa.  Instead of touching her aura, though, it seemed to just slip past her. Heather saw Narcissa shiver just a little as the golden tendril slid over her aura.  _ This is the first time I’ve tried it on an adult magical. Maybe she has some sort of shields? I’m going to have to be more careful, if I can’t nudge them... everything is going to be a lot more dangerous here.  _ She took a deep breath, and continued the conversation as they walked, making sure to keep her posture and expression open.  She used the attitude that impressed the oldest of ladies at the various clubs her Aunt took her to. 

They were greeted just outside the shop by a tall man with long blond hair cascading in a smooth waterfall over his shoulders.  He held a silver snake headed cane in one hand, and a cage with a gorgeous, fierce looking Eagle owl with bright orange eyes. He handed the owl cage to Draco, as soon as they were within speaking distance.  Narcissa extended her hand to clasp his gently for a moment before gesturing to Heather. “Lucius, you’ll never believe who Draco found while shopping. This is my cousin, Heather Potter. Heather, this is my husband, Lord Lucius Malfoy.”

Heather smiled at the rather intimidating man.  She curtseyed again, making sure to keep her eyes on his hands, before meeting his eyes briefly.  “It’s a pleasure, Lord Malfoy.” 

He inclined his head regally, “It’s lovely to meet you, Heiress Potter.” Heather sent just a tendril of her magic out into the air, trying to get a feel for the imposing man’s emotions. As soon as her liquid gold magic intersected with Lucius’s aura, his eyes snapped back to her, examining her fiercely.  Heather tightened her grip on her magic, sliding as much of it beneath the surface as she could. If Lucius could feel it when it slipped over him, then maybe other people could too! It wasn’t safe to risk in a public street.

Heather drew away from the small family as Narcissa turned to converse with her husband.  She was distracted by a large snowy owl with golden eyes, who seemed to stare right through her.  Heather walked up to the owl’s perch and carefully extended her fingers. The owl regarded her before seeming to come to a conclusion and shifting from the perch to her shoulder. Heather smiled and ran her fingers down the chest feathers.  “I think we’ll be good friends, owl.” 

After Heather paid for the owl, and the necessary supplies, the group continued the shopping together.  The Malfoys helped her pick out all the necessary odds and ends, like a telescope, parchment, quills and ink, and a journal or two.  Narcissa nudged her towards a book on calligraphy and quill maintenance.  _ Why are they still using feathers and parchment? I’m going to have to pick up some supplies in the muggle world.  I wonder if fountain pens look like quills when they write? Those would be way easier to manage in a backpack than some delicate feather!  _ Despite her thoughts about quills, Heather caught herself admiring some phoenix quills in a special display case, before purchasing the more basic student ones.  She also picked up several colors of ink, some sealing wax, and envelopes. As per her new habit, she grabbed an owl order form when she paid for her supplies.

Before she knew it, they were walking into a tiny looking apothecary, called Slugs and Jiggs. The Malfoys spotted Severus first, as Heather was looking at all the various animal parts herbs, minerals, and liquids on display.  The adults talked while Draco and Heather picked up the first year potion supplies. Draco made sure that they got the Slytherin edition, and whispered to her, “It’s got the higher quality ingredients. It’s more expensive, but really what’s a couple galleons for fresh supplies? Here’s their order form, for if you run out.  But Mother would pick yours up with mine if you asked. She likes you.” 

Heather let her cheeks color and smiled at him, very pleased looking. “Really? I wasn’t sure.  I mean, we just met, and they’re both so nice!” Draco preened under her praise, and returned her smile. 

The children were quickly led off to a cafe on a side street off of Diagon.  There were outdoor tables on a patio blocked off by a wrought iron fence, all of them covered in crisp white tablecloths with a single pink rose in a silver vase on top.  A waitress in a pale green robe escorted them to a table. It was late enough that the lunch crowd had passed, so they were led to a round table without anyone nearby. As they entered the patio area, all the noise from the alley disappeared, and they could only hear a quiet piano in the background.   _ Magic is the greatest,  _ Heather thought.  

Before long, they were all seated, enjoying water or tea, and waiting on their orders.  Heather was looking forward to the fancy sounding French sandwich she had ordered. She studied the adults carefully from her spot between Narcissa and Draco.  Lucius was on the other side of Draco, and Severus directly across from her at the circular table. She looked at Draco as she spoke to him about the interesting things she had seen at the stores, but most of her attention was on the adult men.  She slowly started relaxing her grip on her magic as she got more interested in her conversation. Heather wasn’t used to having to keep her magic trapped, using it frequently every day made it more natural to keep it wrapped around her fingers and dancing in the air around her.  Draco began smiling more and more as her magic danced out to him. Lucius’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly as he felt it again. He shared a look with Severus, who merely raised an eyebrow in question. 

Narcissa smoothly interrupted the discussion between Heather and Draco, “Now, darling girl, we simply must get tea next week. There are a few stores I think you’d like that wizards find dreadfully dull.  Please indulge me!” She smiled at the small girl, distracting her from the conversation her husband and Severus seemed to be having with micro expressions and eye contact. 

“Well, if you’re sure, Aunt Cissa. I could meet you tomorrow afternoon, if you’d like? I have an appointment at Gringotts in the morning, but I should be done by then.” The two quickly arranged a time to meet, and started in on the food the waitress delivered. 

Severus continued to watch Heather throughout the meal, noting her careful movements, her good manners, and her cautious eyes. Her cheerful, friendly mein was good, but she was only just eleven, and he could see that she was watching Lucius and him very carefully.  “Ms. Potter... How exactly do you think that your ... aunt... will react to you leaving the house again tomorrow? And how are you planning on reaching Gringotts on your own?” His voice was silky smooth, but set off warning bells in Heather’s mind.

“Oh.  Well. Um.” Heather shifted in her chair, uncomfortably. “The train has a station close to my house, it shouldn’t be that hard to get into town.”  She looked down at her plate, and tucked a loose strand of hair more carefully behind her ear. 

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, and looked at the dour man between her and her husband. “If you’d like, Heather, I would be glad to escort you to Gringotts in the morning.  There’s no need for you to use muggle transportation alone. Is that even safe? All those muggles everywhere!” She sneered in disgust.

Draco cut in, before Heather could answer. “So you were raised by muggles?? Who were your tutors? Why can’t one of them take you?” His eyes were rounded with curiosity, while his father’s were narrowed in suspicion. 

“Tutors?” The girl sounded confused. “I’ve never needed a tutor, I do well in all my classes.” 

Lucius blinked slowly, then exchanged an incredulous look with Severus and Narcissa.  “Child, do you mean to tell me that you’ve had no magical education whatsoever? No tutoring in etiquette and the history of your House?”

“Oh. Well, no, sir. I’ve attended the neighborhood school up until I turned 9, then I .. But that’s not what you’re asking about.  No, magical education, I guess. Am I terribly behind? I picked up all the extra books you and the goblins recommended!” She turned to Severus with the last sentence. 

Narcissa was deep in thought.  If this was what the girl was like with no training whatsoever, what could she be after a bit of education? “Heather, would your guardians object to you spending the next month with us? Afterall, we are family.” She smiled prettily at the girl, cunning sharp in her eyes.  

Heather’s eyes widened, and her shoulders sagged slightly in relief.  Her magic danced around her, smelling of fresh cut grass and citrus. “If you’re sure.. I could stay for a bit, I don’t think that Uncle Vernon would mind me being gone, especially after--” she cut herself off quickly, before changing tacks. “I mean, no, my guardians wouldn’t mind my absence.  I just need to find a telephone and I can call them to make sure they know.”

Draco looked confused. “Why not just send them an owl?”

Heather laughed, then shook her head. “Oh no.  They wouldn’t take that well at all.” She shivered. “If it wasn’t fast enough, Uncle Vernon might.. Well. I wouldn’t risk an owl.”  The adults catalogued her behavior, quickly coming to a conclusion that didn’t speak well for her muggle guardians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Already, more than 200 kudos! This is amazing, thank you everyone for reading and commenting. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story, too.


	6. Staying with the Malfoys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather goes home with the Malfoys, and visits the Goblins.

CHAPTER 6

 

That evening saw Heather settled into a guest suite at Malfoy Manor.  Narcissa had installed her in the family wing, directly across from Draco’s suite.  There was an enormous sitting room, bigger than her bedroom at home, decorated in icy blues and white.  The bedroom was at least one and a half times as big, and boasted bookshelves, a small desk, a vanity, and as a centerpiece, an enormous bed.  The bed was soft and fluffy, warmly covered in a dark blue duvet. The curtains surrounding the four poster were light blue. The bathroom was completely white marble, and had a sunken tub as well as a large glass enclosed shower. _This doesn’t make any sense at all._ Heather thought to herself. _I don’t belong in here.  Why are they being so nice to me? What do they want? No one just lets a stranger stay in a room like this if they’re not getting something from it._ She frowned, and looked down at herself. She was wearing the new nightgown she had picked up that day.  It was white and frilly, and absolutely ridiculous. She loved it. _Normally I don’t have any trouble figuring out what people want from me, but these adults.  Their magic keeps blocking me. I’m going to have to figure out how to get around that, or else I’ll never be able to be safe here. I don’t even know where here is! I should have just left. I could have my trunk-apartment all set up in a park if I hadn’t let Narcissa talk me into staying with them.  I mean, sure they seem nice, but no one’s this nice without wanting something back. There’s no way I can pay for the kind of help Narcissa’s offering._ She sighed, tugging on her hair as she quickly rebraided it loosely for the night. _I’ll just have to figure out what to do tomorrow. I can take my things with me and slip away after tea if I have to. If it’s just me and Narcissa, I’m sure that I can manage._ She smiled, glad that she had a plan again.  Discovering the magical world had thrown her, but she could cope with this, she’d managed everything up to this point.

 

**Meanwhile, downstairs in the study**

Severus took a fortifying sip of the firewhiskey his friend had poured into a cut crystal glass.  Lucius settled into a wingback chair next to him, cradling more of the same. Narcissa sipped wine while sitting on the couch, watching the two men.  Finally, she was the one to break the silence. “The girl who lived. Raised by muggles, with no knowledge of her heritage. Probably abused. Is that right, Sev?  Have I covered everything?” Her words were bitter and hard.

Severus sighed, then nodded. “She’s nothing at all like I was told.  What was that old goat thinking, leaving her with Petunia? She’s always hated magic, ever since--” His words died in his throat, and he looked down at the drink smoking slightly in the glass. He sighed again, then took another drink, enjoying the burn.  His voice turned clinical as he continued. “Almost certainly abused. Amazing control over her magic. She did something before we entered Diagon, it seemed to make her fade into the background a little. I’m not sure how, a girl like her always catches the eye, but everyone just skimmed right over her.  It wasn’t working anymore by the time you brought her back to me.”

Lucius sipped his drink and nodded. “That might be my fault,” he drawled. “I could feel her magic, dancing near my aura, and blocked it out of instinct. She pulled everything in then.  Did you get a taste of it?” He shivered, and drank more. “I haven’t felt power like hers in years. And she’s only eleven! What did you think of her, Narcissa?”

Severus considered his friend, knowing his incredible sensitivity to magic.  He hadn’t felt the magic directly, but if Lucius reacted like that, there was no doubt that her power was intoxicating.  Narcissa smiled at the men. “I’m taking the girl under my wing. Surely you see the family resemblance? I don’t care if she’s a Potter by name, that girl is as much of a Black as I am. She looks like she could be Sirius’s child as well as James and Lily’s.  What do you think? Did he blood adopt her?” Severus’s eyes widened, and he set his drink down quickly before it could slip from his hands.

“How am I supposed to survive this year? Merlin. It’s going to be a disaster,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back.  

Narcissa laughed mockingly. “You survived that halfblood disaster that Andromeda spawned.  Heather seems far better mannered and more graceful than the stories of Nymphadora!”

Sev groaned, “Don’t remind me.  She’s not gone yet, I have one more year of misery with her.  Now this one too? I don’t know if the school will survive.” He picked his drink back up to slam the rest back.  “The worst part? I can’t imagine that girl upstairs in red and gold. Can you? Where do you think that blasted hat will put her?”

The adults sunk into contemplation, finishing their drinks quietly.  Upstairs, Heather continued to plan her escape, should it become necessary.  Draco slept quietly, secure in his place, dreaming of quidditch.

 

oOo

The next morning, Heather put on one of her new outfits. It was a green linen sundress with a swirly skirt that went just past her knees.  She paired it with a darker green robe, worn open in the front. Rather than just the single braid down her back, she did her hair into two dutch braids, with the ends coming over her shoulders. Unbound, her hair now reached her waist, so she had experience restraining it in braids.  Finishing her morning routine, she slipped her new bag into her trunk, shrank the trunk and put it into a pocket inside her robe. If she needed to make an exit today, she didn’t want to have to worry about her things. She kept the money pouch accessible, just in case it was needed. Her wand was tucked into the special pocket in her robe.

As soon as she shut the door to her room, a tiny creature with gigantic tennis ball eyes and floppy ears appeared in front of her.  He introduced himself as Dobby, a house-elf, and led her to the breakfast room. The manor was enormous, and the morning light made it sparkle. The marble had gold veins running through them, and the walls were covered in moving portraits featuring people who looked much like Lucius.  Many of them were dozing, but quite a few were watching her. Heather returned their looks with a smile. _I wonder if these portraits can spy on people? I bet they can, they look cunning enough.  I better not talk to myself outloud around them, that’d just be asking for it._ Dobby led her to the breakfast room, which was a glass walled room filled with white painted wrought iron furniture. The sunshine made everything sparkle, and the plants around the edges softened the look.  The only one sitting at the table was Narcissa, who had her hair up in a french twist, and was wearing a darker blue dress today than yesterday. Her robes were pale green.

“Heather!  It’s lovely to see you so early.  I didn’t expect you up so soon, Draco is rarely up before ten.”  She looked pleased with Heather’s appearance, as she examined the dress and robe she selected.   “Please, take a seat. Just announce what you’d like, the elves will take care of it for you.”

The girl glanced around, noticing that Dobby had disappeared, and seated herself across from Narcissa.  “Thank you, Aunt Cissa. I always get up early, there’s too much to do to waste the day sleeping. Thank you again for the rooms, they’re just beautiful!  The bed was exceptionally comfortable, too. I really hope I’m not being an inconvenience, I know that you must have a lot going on, what with it being the last month before Draco starts school.”  Her hands twisted each other in her lap under the table, and her shoulders were tight.

Narcissa smiled gently at the girl.  “Nonsense. I’ve always wanted a young lady around the place, to bring up the standards.  All these men around, and .. well, you understand how they get!”

After a pleasant breakfast spent discussing the various stops they would make that day after Gringotts, Draco finally stumbled in.  His hair was mussed, and he was wearing a button up shirt, slacks, and no shoes. “Hullo, mum.”

Narcissa smiled indulgently at Draco, who looked like he was still mostly asleep. “Aren’t you going to greet Heather?”  He yelped, his eyes flying the rest of the way open, and locking onto Heather. She sipped her tea, hiding a smirk at his obvious embarrassment.

“Good morning, Draco! It’s lovely to see you.” Her eyes were filled with laughter, as she watched him, but she offered an out.  “Your mother and I were just about to leave to run our errands. I’ll see you this afternoon?” He just nodded, mortified that he had come downstairs improperly dressed.  He dreaded to think what his mother would say when she got him alone.

A quick apparition later, Heather and Narcissa were walking into the bank.  Narcissa sat down in the waiting area, while Heather was escorted to a back room.  Unlike the front of the bank, with sweeping vista of marble and high ceilings, the back was rough cut stone, low ceilings, and wooden doors.  “Thanks for helping me again, Griphook.” She smiled at the goblin escorting her. He blinked at her several times in obvious shock.

“You recognize me?”  His voice reflected the shock on his face.

“Uh, of course I do, we just spoke yesterday.” Heather was confused by his reaction, how could she forget someone in just one day?  “Do most wizards and witches forget you so quickly? That seems really rude.”

Griphook snorted and nodded. “Well, that’s most wizards for you.” Heather laughed, as she walked through the door that was opened for her.  The small office had a stone floor like the hallway, but was far better lit. There were bookshelves along the wall next to the door, a large mahogany desk, with two wooden chairs in front of it.  Instead of paintings, the walls were decorated with obviously well used weapons. One or two looked like they might still have blood on them. Heather stopped on her way to the chairs, drawn to look at a small hatchet right beside the door.  

“Griphook? Are these decorative, or... preparation?”  Her voice was considering, as she ran a careful finger down the haft.

He cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back. “You see more than most wizard-kind I’ve met, Heiress Potter.  Keep looking like you are now, and you might see some things that some don’t want you. Please sit, Ragnock will be in to see you momentarily.” Rather than sounding threatening, he seemed to approve of her, which was a new feeling. As soon as she had herself settled in the chair, a small door behind the desk opened and another goblin walked in.  He had a gold hoop earring and a gold tooth, but otherwise did resemble Griphook. Heather studied him carefully to make sure she could keep recognizing all the Goblins she met. If other magicals were going to neglect their manners, she could capitalize on it and maybe get some extra help. Help from the ones in charge of the gold could be priceless.

“Heiress Potter.  We have heard of some irregularities in your account.  You didn’t arrive on your seventh birthday to be recognized as a Daughter of your house, and you didn’t come on your tenth birthday for your Heir ring.  Do you wish to explain yourself?” He had a forbidding manner and was incredibly intimidating for someone less than a meter tall.

Heather’s eyes got larger as he spoke.  “I’m very sorry sir. I only found out about magic two days ago, and .. I have no idea what you’re talking about.  I got the books that Griphook recommended yesterday, but I haven’t had a chance to read them yet. I’m very sorry, though.  The muggles that raised me never told me about any of this stuff.” Her shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her hands in her lap.  “What do I need to do now?” She straightened her spine and looked him in the eyes soberly.

He smiled, disconcertingly showing all of his sharp teeth.  “First, a blood test. Three drops of blood in this bowl, and we shall see.”  He handed her a small silver knife, set a white bowl on the table, and a blank piece of parchment that seemed to shimmer with magic.  She carefully cut the ring finger on her left hand, allowed the requisite number of drops to fall. She popped her finger in her mouth, sucking on it to remove the blood.  Then she grabbed a tissue out of her pocket to wipe down the knife and wrap around her finger. The goblin nodded in approval as she set the knife down. He then swirled the potion around three times counter clockwise before pouring it over the parchment.  Instead of getting wet, the liquid skittered over the surface of the parchment, formed into words, and then sank in. Heather scooted closer to the desk, eyes wide with anticipation as she read the document.

  


**Name:** Heather Lyra Potter-Black

**Parents:** James Charlus Potter (father)

Lily Rose Potter nee Evans (mother)

Sirius Orion Black (father, blood adoption)

**Titles:** Peverell

Black

Potter

**Assets, Houses, Vaults:** Available upon claiming Lordship

**Godparents:** Sirius Black

Alice Longbottom

**Magical Guardian:** Albus Dumbledore

 

Heather frowned, her brow knitting in thought. “What does all this mean?”  She handed the sheet to the Ragnock.

He grinned again, showing her all of his very sharp teeth.  “This means that you are a very rich young lady.” He gently ran a sharpened nail down a crystal sitting on his desk. “Send for the heir rings for Potter, Black, and Peverell!”  She heard someone on the other end of the crystal drop something loudly before a door slammed. “No one has been able to claim Peverell in centuries, Heiress. Now, from what you’ve said, you have received no tutoring in your duties as a Lady of a Most Noble and Most Ancient House?”

Heather shook her head.  “No, I’m sorry. I’ll work hard at it though!” She sounded as guilty as she felt in that moment.  The goblin seated across from her simply raised a hand to stop her rambling. As she spoke, a goblin she hadn’t met yet opened the door, setting three ring boxes down between them.

“No, this is not your fault.  Your godparents or magical guardian should have informed you of all of this.  How many meetings have you had with your guardian?” His smirk was expectant and sly, as if he suspected what he would hear and was waiting for confirmation.

“I’ve never spoken with anyone named Dumbledore.  I got a letter with his name on it, but it was signed by Minerva McGonagall, and that was my Hogwarts letter.  I should have been meeting with him?” Her mouth tightened, and she rubbed at a scar above her knee. “I was raised by muggles and didn’t know anything about magic, like I said.  What about my godparents? Why haven’t I met them?” Her throat felt tight, and her eyes were burning. She refused to cry in this office, so she took a deep breath, forcing her emotions back under lock and key.

Ragnock nodded in approval at her calm facade. “Your godfather is currently imprisoned in Azkaban, and your godmother is a permanent resident of St. Mungo’s mind healing ward. Your magical guardian had a duty of care, and it seems that he has not fulfilled it.  We have several options at this point. But first, put on your Heir rings. If you are accepted, they will resize to fit.” He watched her closely, with his beady black eyes.

Heather took another deep breath and nodded. “Alright. Which finger? And what order?”  She flipped open the three ring boxes in front of her, studying the clunky rings.

“It’s up to you. Just.. Put them on in whatever order feels right.  Magic will guide you.” He sounded calm, but his eyes were sparking maliciously, as he reverently caressed a folder of papers still held on his side of the desk.  He could tell that the little girl in front of him would cause chaos amongst the wizards. Anything that made them uncomfortable was good in his books.

She took another deep breath, and relaxed her hold on her magic.  It immediately slipped out of her center and wound around her hands and shoulders.  Ragnock took a deep breath, sensing the power radiating off the young girl in front of him.  His back straightened, and his eyes lit with respect as he watched her. Heather didn’t notice the change of expression, as she carefully slid her hand over each of the rings, letting her magic taste them.  After holding her hand above each, she nodded, then reached for the first one.

It was silver, with a rough cut emerald the same color as her eyes inset in the band.  Surrounding the gem were carvings of a strange symbol, a triangle with a circle inside, bisected by a line.  Heather reached into the wooden ring box, pulled it out and slipped it onto her right ring finger. Power, cold and harsh washed through her.  She could feel an impartial gaze studying her, before finally nodding acceptance. The ring squeezed down to fit her tiny finger. Heather ran a finger from her other hand over the ring, and felt an unfamiliar warmth wash over her.  She smiled with wonder and looked at Ragnock. He smirked, and acknowledged, “Heiress Peverell.”

She reached out her hand a second time, this time stopping at the other silver ring, with a blue stone.  There was a stag carved into both sides of the silver band, with its antlers seeming to support the large faceted sapphire.  It looked newer than the other two rings, more modern in it’s design, but still antique. Magic drew her to slip it onto the same finger.  Instead of cold this time, warm magic washed over her, brimming with acceptance and love. She could feel something unlocking in her chest, and the golden magic wrapped around her shoulders seemed to glow brighter.  The goblin nodded again, “Heiress Potter.”

She returned his smile, and took the only golden ring.  It was carved with ravens supporting a large, dark red ruby the color of fresh blood.  Inscribed on the inside of the ring was ‘Toujours Pur’. She quickly slid it onto the same finger, and was immediately gripped with soul chilling cold.  She could feel something in her head, rifling through her memories and her motivations, and outrage burned in her gut. She shoved all of her magic towards the intruder, shoving it away from her thoughts.  Approval danced through the air, and the cold, dark magic settled around her like a cloak. She could feel the magic’s pride in her quick reaction and skill, despite her young age. Ragnock seemed to recognize the flow of magic around her, raised both his eyebrows and then nodded again. “Heiress Black.  Congratulations, young witch. I haven’t seen three such rings accept one heir or heiress in centuries. Most lines have more than one option, though.”

Heather took a deep breath, centering herself, and letting the new magics settle into her skin.  She looked down at her right ring finger, then at Ragnock again. “This is a bit much for one finger...” The three rings, even though they had shrunk down to fit her, were still quite bulky and reached to her knuckle.  

“Just.. Request that only one be visible.  Only members of your new families will be able to sense the ones that aren’t seen, and as the Blacks are the only family with living members left, you should be able to keep this rather quiet, if you wish.”  She nodded, stared at her hand for a second, until only the Potter family ring was visible.

“Who are the remaining Blacks?”  He slid a sheet of paper over to her from the file in front of him.  She scanned it quickly, then stopped and stared at him in disbelief.

“Narcissa and Draco Malfoy? Seriously? I knew they said we were related, but.. I wonder if this is why she’s helping me...”  She sank into contemplation briefly, then nodded acceptance. “Alright. What other duties have I been neglecting?”

Ragnock nodded approval at her forthright acceptance of responsibility.  “Here’s information about each of the rings you wear, and what they’ll protect you from.  Basically, poisons, love potions, and compulsions. Read on your own time. Next, your accounts.  Yesterday, Griphook took you to your Potter Trust Vault. As you’re not the Lady of any of your houses yet, you can’t withdraw anything from the main vaults.  However, now that you’re the Heiress of these houses, you have access to the heir vault for each of them.” He slid more papers across the table, with details of the funds available.  

Heather boggled at the numbers, then looked at Ragnock. “Do you handle investing? This is too much money just to have sitting around in a cave.”  He smiled again, the sharpest yet.

“Yes.  Goblins handle all of that.  You can’t change any of the investments of the main vaults, but if you wish to begin investing with your trust vaults, only the Head of the house could gainsay you.  Your only House with a Lord is Black, but as he’s currently in Azkaban... You will be eligible to claim Lady of Peverell at thirteen. Once you are Lady of one house, you are considered emancipated and can claim the Potter Ladyship, even though they follow new customs that say you must wait until you’re an adult at 17.  As for Black, you must wait until your godfather dies or signs over the Lordship. Understand?”

Heather nodded, feeling more and more overwhelmed at the knowledge being hinted at.   _I have got to read all those books that they recommended, I’ve only got two years to figure all of this out. I don’t understand how someone can be a Lord while he’s in prison, and still have rights over things on the outside, that seems weird._

“Now.  Given you haven’t met with your guardian, I can assume that you did not give him permission to withdraw funds from your trust account?”  He slid yet another piece of paper across to her, showing a pattern of withdrawals from her account.

 

**Monthly Expenses**

Dursleys Living Expenses: 100 Galleons (500 Pounds)

Tutoring: 500 Galleons

Donations: 100 Galleons

 

Heather scowled, then looked at Ragnock.  “I have never seen a tutor. My relatives have told me since I can remember that they receive no money for my care, not from anyone, and that I must earn my way.  I’ve worked every single day since I can remember, to pay off my expenses. If I’m losing 700 Galleons a month, how long do I have until my trust runs out? Who authorized these?”  Her temper was starting to rise from deep within, and her magic began sparking visibly off her fingers.

“Your magical Guardian, Albus Dumbledore, authorized all of these, claiming you verbally approved. As you were not yet sealed to your vaults, we couldn’t gainsay him. Now that you’re here and wearing your heir rings, do you wish to stop these payments?  Your trust would last four more years at the current rate.” He looked at her expectantly, folding his hands together on the desk in front of him.

“Yes. I’ve never received any benefit from any of these, and I won’t continue them. How can I change magical guardians? Do I really need one?  How on earth is the Headmaster of the school in charge of so much??”

“Dumbledore is politically very powerful, and removing him as your guardian will be difficult.  I’d recommend speaking to a human law wizard, as we can’t do anything about that. The Goblin Nation would be glad to stop all the withdrawals from your vault, and investigate some missing items from the main vault.  We can also work to return all funds taken since you were seven. As you should have been brought here by then, and he purposefully didn’t, that money was taken illegally. You should have 33,600 Galleons added back to your vault within the next week.”

Heather nodded again, then looked down and back at him. “That’s, what? Almost 170,000 pounds? That’s... “ She shook her head, overwhelmed by the amount of money taken from her.  Her eyes hardened as she looked back to the goblin, “Can you charge interest? And missing items? I’d like a reckoning. Can you fine the thief? I want them to pay.” Her teeth were visible, and her eyes sparked with rage.  

Ragnock allowed a vicious, bloodthirsty smile to cover his face, and nodded sharply.  “Yes, young warrior. We will reclaim what is yours, and more.”

“Good, I want them to suffer.” He nodded again, and made several quick notes on the packet that remained on his side of the desk.

“Study these, it’s investment opportunities for your trust vaults. I would assume you’ve never gotten any of the mail we’ve sent you?” As she wordlessly shook her head, he just nodded, then opened a drawer.  “This is a vanishing box. You’ll be at that school under his control for the next ten months, and we can’t risk the sanctity of Gringott’s communication. When we send you a statement, the gem on the top will glow. When you need to send us something, just put it inside and it will appear in this box’s match.  No need to worry about owls going astray.”

She ran her hand over the letter sized box, carved with runes along the lid, with a light yellow gem inset.  “Thank you for all your help, Ragnock. I look forward to a prosperous relationship.”

“May your enemies quake at your feet, and your gold ever flow.” He nodded approvingly.  Heather gathered up all the papers and box, before opening up her shrunken trunk and locking everything away. After the trunk was safely back inside her robe pocket, she was escorted back to the front lobby.  

 

Heather worked on getting her temper and her more vibrant magic under control as she walked back into the bank lobby.  She carefully tucked it all inside her core, working on getting it to spin nicely together, but it wasn’t working very well.  Instead of just being gold, she could now feel more colors blending in. It was going to take some work to get everything properly balanced again.  It felt like she had more magic available now than ever before, and her mind felt clearer.

“Thank you for waiting, Aunt,” she said as she approached Narcissa.  The blond looked up as Heather entered the seating area, and straightened even more, a smile gracing her lips. 

“Heiress Black?”  Heather nodded, watching her carefully, uncertain how she knew, as only the Potter ring was visible.  “Welcome to the Family, darling.” Narcissa extended both hands for Heather’s, and drew her closer. “Ladies of the House of Black look out for each other.  I have so much to teach you.” Heather just nodded, a warm feeling blossoming in her chest, and the pair walked out of the bank.  _ A Lady of the House of Black.  It would be really nice to belong somewhere like that.  _ She snuck another glance at Narcissa, but she had her public face on, and Heather couldn’t read it.

The only strange things that happened that day both involved Hogwarts staff.  Before she had left the bank, she saw a burly giant of a man covered with huge masses of curly black hair and beard yelling to the bank teller.  He didn’t seem angry, just like everything he did was larger than life and louder than it had any reason to be. He demanded a trip to vault You Know Which to get You Know What for the Headmaster.  Heather filed away the information, adding it to her mental file about Dumbledore’s shady doings. Narcissa saw which way she was looking and murmured, “Rubeus Hagrid, groundskeeper at Hogwarts. He’s one of Dumbledore’s men.  A bit simple, too.” Heather just nodded, flashing her a quick smile of appreciation for the information. 

As they were walking down the stairs leaving the bank, they ran into a man wearing a purple turban.  His hands were shaking, and his eyes looked shifty and nervous. He nodded briefly at Narcissa, then looked puzzled at Heather. “H-h-hello, L-l-lady Malfoy,” he stuttered. “Wh-wh-who’s this?”

Narcissa smiled tightly at the nervous looking man. “Mr. Quirrell, this is Heiress Potter.  I’m taking her around today. Heather, this is Mr. Quirrell, one of your future teachers. He’ll be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts. We were in the same year at Hogwarts.” Heather smiled at him politely, and nodded a greeting. Her magic was still resisting her control, and slipped in lazy loops around her arms and through the air.  One brushed through Quirrell’s aura as she extended her hand. 

“It’s lovely to meet you sir.” His eyes seemed to darken slightly as he looked at her.  If she didn’t know better, they looked almost red instead of brown. 

He took her hand, squeezing it gently before raising it to just below his mouth. “The pleasure is mine,” he whispered.  As their hands connected, she felt the strangest fluttering in her scar. It didn’t hurt, but the feeling of movement on her forehead was decidedly strange.  Quirrell’s eyes widened and crimson covered the irises completely. “If you need any help in your studies, please stop by my office.” Heather nodded, and rubbed at her scar with her free hand, as he had not yet relinquished the other. Narcissa raised an eyebrow at their exchange, drawing Heather away as quickly as possible, not appreciating the fascination she read on the young girl’s face.

“Darling, there’s no point in getting attached to any of the Defense teachers you may have at school.  It’s no secret that they never last more than a year, and making it all the way through final exams is rare.  It’s said the position is cursed. I had seven different teachers in my time at Hogwarts, and I have no doubts that you will have the same.”  Heather nodded, contemplatively. 

“This is going to take a lot of getting used to.  Why would anyone let a position that sounds as important as Defense teacher be cursed? Wouldn’t that make it hard for the students to learn?” 

Narcissa smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll find that the Headmaster makes many decisions that we cannot understand.” 

“Oh.  Of course it was  _ him _ ” her voice dripped with malevolence, and her eyes sparked with her barely concealed fury.  Looking at Narcissa, she interpreted her expression as a request for more information and continued, in a falsely pleasant tone, “Did you know, Aunt Cissa, that the Headmaster is my magical guardian?  Perhaps we can discuss matters over tea this evening. I think that Uncle Lucius might be needed.” 

Narcissa nodded, her face tightening briefly, before her normal emotionless mask returned. “Now then, let’s finish our shopping.”

A whirlwind trip through Diagon Alley saw Heather with styling products, more fashionable dress robes ordered for the Winter season, five new pairs of shoes, a clever dagger that looked like a hairstick, dozens of very pretty matching sets of underwear, and finally, a visit to an eye care specialist.  After a quick examination, the eye healer determined that her vision was easily correctable, and dripped the proper potion into each eye. The burning lasted only minutes, but being able to throw away her hated broken glasses was more than worth the hundred galleons the specialist charged. 

 

When they apparated back to the manor, Draco was sitting in the room, sipping tea.  He fumbled the cup, splashing hot tea on his lap, and his jaw dropped. “You’re Heiress Black?? HOW?”  Now that she had had time to settle her new magics, Heather could feel his magic acknowledging her place as Heiress Black. It felt like sitting in front of a fire on cold winter day.

“When I got a blood test at Gringotts, it showed that I have three parents.  Lily and James Potter, then Sirius Black, through blood adoption. He’s also my godfather.” She watched Draco, worried about his reaction. 

Draco nodded, his lips tight in an annoyed frown. “Well. Fine,” he huffed. He turned to face his mother and said petulantly, “I think I’ll go see Blaise, if you don’t need me for anything else.” Narcissa sighed and nodded, gesturing him towards the Floo Parlor.

Heather sighed sadly, looking down at her feet.  She felt exposed without her glasses on. She felt a delicate hand squeeze her shoulder gently, so she looked up at her aunt. 

“Don’t worry about my Dragon, darling. He’s had it in his head that he’s next in line, despite having equal claim to you before you were even blood adopted.  The family tree is complex, but you can study up on that later. If you’d like to speak with Lucius, he will be home before dinner, and you can chat in his study. Is it a private matter?”  Her voice was gentle and soothing, nothing like the cold tone she used with the public.

“Oh. I was just disappointed.  I thought that Draco and I were going to be best friends, but now...” she sighed deeply, then shoved her disappointment deep within, and continued.  “Thank you, Aunt. It’s not a private matter, just... Dumbledore has been my magical guardian all these years, and my account manager said they couldn’t free me of him even though he abandoned me with those horrible people and stole money from me.  But that I should speak with a law-wizard about it and see what could be done. Uncle Lucius seems like someone who’s good at getting things done.” The banked fury returned as she spoke of Dumbledore, earlier sadness banished.

Narcissa admired her, the Black features showing more clearly when she was in a temper. “If anything can be done, my lord husband would be glad to help.” Her smile was as vicious as the goblin smiles, despite her flat teeth. 

oOo

The rest of the day, Heather intended to spend studying her new books.  She went back to her suite, restored her trunk to it’s spot and natural size, and entered the mostly bare flat to organize her new books properly on the shelves.  After several trips back and forth to her piles of books, sliding some onto bottom shelves, others onto top shelves, Heather swayed, dizzy. Her head ached, in a way it had never hurt before.  It was bone deep, but not sharp or cutting, it was dull, like the press of a knee into her back. She pressed a hand to her scar, pressing in on it, and her other hand reached out towards the shelves behind her.  She groped blindly but missed the white painted shelf. As her hand slid past the shelf, her knees trembled, and then collapsed under her. She crumbled to the ground, like a puppet with the strings cut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg, you guys, really, thank you so much for reading this! I'm so glad you're all enjoying it! Sorry not sorry for the minor cliffhanger


	7. Journey of Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover what happened when Heather passed out last chapter, and finish the first evening at the Malfoys.

CHAPTER 7

When her eyes opened, she was no longer in the empty flat hidden in her trunk.  At first, she couldn’t see much of anything, but as she concentrated the deep black surrounding her began to lighten.  “Hello? Is anyone there? Where am I?” She looked around, puzzled. The grey, featureless expanse around her swallowed her words.  Despite the emptiness, she felt comfortable here. Heather looked down at herself, then around. She sighed, then relaxed her hold on her magic, letting more of it slip out than ever before.   _ I need to figure out where I am, and how to get back out before the Malfoys come looking.  I don’t want them to know about my house in here.  _ Heather’s chin jutted with determination, and she spread her hands out as she turned.  The golden tendrils of her magic spread around her, spiraling outwards as she turned. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she just felt, letting the messages that her magic was sending wash over her.  After a few minutes, she stopped,and her eyes flashed open. Straight ahead of her, there was a darker spot. Her magic returned to her, rising up behind her like golden wings. She strode forward, a smile on her lips.  Whatever was in front of her was extraordinary, and she had to know more. “Hello? Who are you? Do you know where we are?”

No one else broke the silence, but she could feel something watching her.  Unlike normally, the eyes on her didn’t make her feel awkward or nervous. These eyes felt right, like they should be watching her.  She finally reached the edge of the blackness, and stretched out her hand. As soon as her fingertips reached the edge of the blackness, they stopped.  It was like she had hit a glass wall. She smoothed one hand over the glass, then the other. She walked around the patch of darkness, trying to map the edges.  On the far side of the irregular shape, she found the first crack. “Is someone in here? Are you trapped? Do you need help? My name is Heather, I can help you.” She knocked sharply on the glass, for the sound to be swallowed completely.  She pressed her face close to the invisible glass wall, feeling gently along the cracks, looking for the source. She slipped around a little further, finding a web of cracks. “Hello? Do you need help? I can help you, and we can both figure out a way out of here.” Her voice shook with nerves, she was desperate for a response.  Suddenly, deep within the darkness, she saw a light. Two blood red eyes glowed, staring straight at her.

~Who are you?!~ a voice hissed, barely audible.  

~My name is Heather. Who are you? Where are we?~ Her eyes focused on the intimidating pair in front of her.  Her palms were sweaty, so she held them steady on the cool glass wall ahead of her. 

~Why do you want to help me? Where do you think you are?~ His voice, now clearly masculine, seemed to calm dramatically, and the eyes grew larger as he stepped closer to the edge.  She still couldn’t see a body, the darkness too thick for her eyes to penetrate.

~I don’t like the idea of someone being locked up in a little cage.~ she hissed sharply. ~This feels like an aquarium, and no one should be stuck in one of those~

He burst out in laughter, chocolate and deep, sounding surprised that he could even laugh anymore. ~I suppose it is a cage.  You know.. I think I know where we are, little one. Perhaps you can shed some more light on the surroundings. Think of how much you’d prefer it be brighter, Heather~

His accent was different than her first snake friend, Breeze, but the familiarity of her name in parseltongue soothed her.  ~And how would I do that, Master Snake?~

He chuckled again, sounding more natural than before. ~Wish for light.~  Heather rolled her eyes on principle, then looked around, wishing that it was just a little brighter, it was still too hard to see in here.

The moment the thought crossed her mind, sunshine washed over the grey expanse.  The only lingering darkness was a circle directly in front of her. Her eyes widened, and she gasped. ~OH!  Does that mean..~ Before she even fully formed the words, she wished that the glass cage was gone. Her hands plunged into the darkness, and she grinned, proud of herself.

~Impressive..  I didn’t think you would have the control necessary to remove that wall for weeks yet.~  The darkness swirled around the red eyes, condensing until it finally solidified. Instead of the snake she was expecting, a tall red-eyed man stood before her.  His hair was chestnut brown, and pulled back neatly into a ponytail at the base of his neck. His broad shoulders were covered with classic looking wizard robes, very similar to what Lucius wore the previous day.  Heather eyed him cautiously, taking a small step backwards. He didn’t feel dangerous to her, but better to be safe.

~Who are you? I mean, I guess I could keep calling you Master Snake.. I’ve never met a person that talked snake like me before.~ Keeping her eyes on him, she straightened her back, falling into the posture she had learned through years of ballet classes. Her chin lifted, and she regarded him through narrowed eyes. ~Where are we?~

The man smiled, a sharp edged, dangerous thing.  ~Calm, dear girl. You may call me what you will.  As for where we are? I thought it obvious. Where could you be that a mere thought is enough to change everything?~

Heather’s eyes widened, and she looked around.  She then slammed them shut, and quickly thought of the incredibly comfortable chairs in the room the Malfoy’s gave her.  Before her eyes had even opened, she felt the soft velvet pressing into the back of her knees. The other was catty corner, just past her arms reach.  She thumped down into the seat, and looked at him, agog. ~Are we.. are we in my mind?~ 

He walked over to the seat, taking it with casual elegance.  ~Clever, clever little thing. I think I’ll keep you.~ He smirks at her, his eyes raking over her face and hair.  

“How do I get out of here?” Heather asked, in English for the first time since he spoke to her. It echoed strangely in the large expanse.  She frowned, looking around, and a small, cozy room formed around them. The floor was wooden, with a red rag rug, the walls covered in bookshelves, and a fireplace directly in front of the two chairs.  

Master Snake smiled at her, obviously pleased.  Heather blushed, unable to ignore the pride on his face. 

“Very quick, Miss Heather.  I believe it is time that we had a discussion.”  Now that he was speaking English, his voice was a rich baritone. It felt familiar and comforting, like someone she had heard countless times before.  “Excellent job getting me out of that little predicament. It seems only fair that I help you a bit too. Now, we just need to figure out what sort of help you can use.  What, precisely, has been going on lately? Things feel quite different than before.” His eyes were sharp on her, even though the words were drawled and as relaxed as his posture.  He lounged in the chair as if he owned it. 

“Oh! Well.  I just had my eleventh birthday, you see.”  She watched him through her lashes, her posture ramrod straight, hands neatly folded in her lap.   _ How did a man get inside my brain, and who locked him up? What does he want from me? Why do I recognize his voice? He sounds so familiar...  _  She tried not to let much of her concern show on her face, but everything was harder to hide here.

“Eleven.. That’s a very important birthday for a young witch.” He raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of laughter visible in his eyes.

“How do you know that I’m a witch?”  She shifted, the uncomfortable feeling of someone seeing right through her masks washing over her.

“You think that some muggle can do everything you’ve done, little Heather? No. When do you start at Hogwarts?” When he said muggle, it sounded like when Aunt Petunia said cockroach. 

Heather frowned at him again. “I’m the one who helped you, and you’re not even going to tell me who you are? That’s not very nice.”

He laughed at her again, his crimson eyes sparkling.  “You may call me Marvolo, then, if you need a name so badly.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Marvolo.”  She extended her hand to him, a small smile gracing her lips at her victory. “I start in four weeks.  I just found out about everything two days ago, though. Is this a normal sort of thing to have happen?” She gestured vaguely to him and the room surrounding them.

He held on to her hand, squeezing it gently before raising it to his lips and kissing the air above it. “This is not quite ... normal” he sneered, “But I see no real benefit to settling for ordinary, when you could be extraordinary.”

She smiled sharply, her eyes sparkling. “Yes! Why can’t anyone else see that?” 

“I can help you with a great many things at Hogwarts, Heather.  I know quite a bit about all of the subjects you’ll be taught. I could help you find your feet.  Give you the help I was never offered.” His voice was smooth and gentle, his eyes watchful. 

“But what would you want in return?” She returned his stare, unbothered by the blood red color, concentrating instead on his expression.  

“Oh, nothing that would hurt you, darling girl.  Just keep me safe and pay attention to your lessons.”  His smile grew, obviously pleased that she thought to ask what he wanted. 

“Keep you safe? You’re inside my head, how can I...” She stopped suddenly, her face paling.  “Do you mean that people can get inside your brain? How can I keep them out?” Her eyes blazed with determination, and her fists clenched.  She leaned towards Marvolo, intent.

“My, my, my... Very good. You remind me of someone I once knew...” His voice was fond, and his expression was openly pleased for a brief moment before he returned to his normal pleasant yet impassive mein. “They can get into your mind, darling.  That is called Legilimency. Defending against it is known as Occlumency. Generally, penetrating your mind requires direct eye contact, but preventing that is difficult if you don’t want them to know that you have something to hide.” His voice took on a more lecturing tone as he continued.  “In order to protect your mind, first you must have something to protect. This is a good start, a solid foundation. Next you have to find a way to hide your memories from any who would dare invade.” 

Heather nodded, her control over her face slipping as she knit her brow in thought.  She leaned back in her chair, and a tea service appeared on the small table between them.  “Alright. So memories. How do you store them?”

The man leaned forward, pouring tea into two cups, before stirring three lumps of sugar and a bare lashing of cream into one cup.  He stirred it delicately, and set the spoon down with a quiet click. “There are as many ways to store memories as there are people.  Some store them as books in a library, others as potions on a shelf. Generally, it’s best to pick something you’re familiar with, something that you find easy to organize.”

Heather nodded, picking up the tea Marvolo poured for her.  She sipped it, not adding anything to the cup. “I think I can see what you’re saying.  I have an idea.” She stood, setting down her tea, and walking over to a door that appeared as she reached for it.  She opened it, and walked in, gesturing for Marvolo to follow her. The room was bright, whitewashed walls, and a warm golden wood floor.  There were shelves and cabinets on every wall, except where large windows let in pure spring sunshine. Sitting in pride of place at the center of the room was a sewing machine on a wooden table.  Baskets of thread, and scraps of fabric littered the far side of the table, and bright silver shears sat next to the machine. Heather looked around, very pleased, and walked over to a shelf. She concentrated, and fabric appeared on the shelf, neatly folded.  It was a bright green color, with small snakes slithering over it. 

Marvolo walked over and nodded.  His eyes were wide in surprise, not anticipating the room she created.  “This is very nice... May I?” He raised an eyebrow in inquiry, and shyly Heather nodded.  She felt very small standing next to the man. He was even taller than Lucius, who was the tallest person she had met yet.  He stretched out the hand not cradling a teacup, and caressed the fabric. “Oh.. Your very first snake friend. Breeze through the grass?  He was a clever one.” He rewarded her with another proud expression. 

Heather preened under his regard.  This was the most positive attention she’d ever had, and it was almost irresistible.  “Is. He’s making a family now, but he’s not gone. So, I just need to sort all my memories out here, then I can start finding ways to keep other people from getting to them?  How will I know if someone’s trying to get in?” She focused on him intently again, and he smiled at her. 

“You may feel a prickling uncertainty, or like you’re remembering things you have no reason to remember if someone is skimming through your mind, but if they’re just reading your surface thoughts or determining if you’re telling the truth, you won’t feel anything until you have proper shields.”

Her eyes widened and face paled. “Truth? They can tell that? Shit.” She clapped her hand over her mouth, and looked up at him, fear crossing her face for the first time.  She stepped back quickly. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to..” She stepped back again, her arms drawing in protectively.

Marvolo sighed, his shoulders slumping.  “Do not worry, darling girl. I wouldn’t hurt you for a mere vulgarity.  We are making great progress here. For the next few days, before you go to bed, I want you to organize your memories.  Sort them out. Once you’ve done that, we’ll work on your defenses. You said that you have a month before term begins? We should be able to make enough progress to protect your deepest secrets by then.  Not everything, of course, and not from someone determined to find out, but enough to pass casual inspection. There aren’t many people who will rip through the mind of an eleven year old. At least, not at Hogwarts.”  

Heather regathered her composure as he spoke, dropping her arms and putting on an unconcerned face. “Alright then.  But.. How do I get back out of here? You never said.” 

He laughed, “How do you think, Dorothy?”

Her mouth tightened, and she put her hands on her hips. “You have  _ got _ to be joking!” She stomped her foot, closed her eyes, and wished with all her might that she was awake, back in her little trunk-apartment.  “All I had to do is wish to be home?? Argh!!” She opened her eyes, and instead of being in the large bright sewing room in her mind, she was crumpled on the floor of the study in her trunk.  “That MAN!” She fumed momentarily, frustrated that she could have left whenever, before she thought back over their discussion.  _ Really, though.  If he’s going to help me with protecting my mind from people... I guess letting me leave too early wouldn’t have worked.  I better get things in order faster than he said, I don’t want people able to tell what’s true and what’s not.  _ Heather resolutely refused to think about why she felt like she could trust the person inside her head, concentrating instead on getting herself back into her room at the manor before anyone noticed her absence.  She wasn’t normally one to avoid thinking about hard topics, but this was the exception.

 

Interlude: Marvolo’s POV

 

_ The child... My foretold enemy.. She just freed me from the cage her own accidental magic built.  What a fool. Why would she do that? I mean, of course, the offer of assistance was good, but I hadn’t even given her anything yet when she unlocked the door.   _ He frowned deeply as he paced and thought.  Now that Heather was back out in the real world, he had free run of the very comfortable study she had built for them.   _ And this! A room, with a chair for me! What was she thinking.   _ He had a strange feeling in his stomach.  A twisting, upset sort of lurching. He rested his hand on it, and thought more.  

_ Wait.. Do I feel guilty? For getting the better of a bargain with a child? No.  Dark Lord Voldemort does not feel guilty, no matter what! Especially not regarding my greatest enemy.   _ He paced, one hand holding the other wrist behind his back as he thought.   _ I will simply have to make sure that my advice and aid is enough to balance the scales.  If she is going to be my host, then ... It only makes sense that I help her make the proper choices. Isn’t she a reflection on me, after all? If my enemy looks stronger and smarter to the rest of the world, then how much better will I look? It’s bad enough she defeated me as an infant, I can’t let her be incompetent.  I would look ridiculous.  _ He dropped into his chair, gracefully, and crossed his legs at the ankles, stretching them out in front of him.   _ Yes.  I will repay her, use her to find out all I can, and discover the location of the rest of me.  Then I can provide myself with important information about this... inconvenience.  _

oOo

 

That evening, at dinner, it was just Lucius, Narcissa, and Heather.  She looked to Narcissa, “I guess Draco isn’t back yet?” She did her best to sound disaffected, but going by the pity in Narcissa’s eyes, the hurt showed.  

“No, he’s going to be at his friend’s house for a few more days, I would think.” Lucius looked over at Narcissa, a small frown on his lips.

“Now, why is our son out visiting?”  He sounded disapproving, and he watched the two ladies carefully.

Heather rested her hand on the table, allowing the Potter ring to change to the Black ring.  “It’s my fault, I think. He saw that I was Heiress Black, and...” She ducked her head, fiddling with her ring uncomfortably.  “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

Lucius breathed out heavily through his nose.  “Of course. He’ll come back soon, I’m sure. No need to worry, child.” Heather nodded mutely.

“I don’t even know how I got to be heir instead of him, I mean, I wasn’t born a Black, and he’s a boy.  Don’t boys get preference?”

Narcissa looked at her oddly, “Heather.. When my idiot cousin Sirius adopted you, he made you as much a Black as he was.  And who told you that witches can’t inherit? Of course we can! First born child of the first born child has priority, then first born of the second born, and so on.  Draco is the child of the third born of the second born line. You’re first of the first. There was no way that he could inherit once you were adopted. If not for your adoption, it would be a mess trying to figure out who would be chosen by Lady Magic as heir.  It might be the smartest thing Sirius ever did.” She shakes her head and sips her wine.

Heather nods slowly. “I have a lot of reading to do.  Muggles don’t treat daughters equal to sons when it comes to titles, and I figured that as old fashioned as things were here, that it’d be even worse.” Her brow was knit in thought as she considered everything she had learned so far.

Narcissa smiled and pulled her wand out, setting it on the table. “This tends to equalize things.” 

The rest of dinner conversation was between Lucius and Narcissa, as Heather kept quiet, watching them and stewing over Draco’s reaction.  She made sure to use the same utensils as Narcissa, and was careful with her table manners. Their manners seemed very similar to the ones described in the oldest book she had found, one about the Victorian Era.  

“Dearest, Heather had a question or two for you, after her meeting with the Goblins,” Narcissa said, once a dessert of dark chocolate and fruit was consumed.  

Lucius raised an eyebrow, sipping his red wine. “Then let us adjourn to my study.” He sounded intrigued, his normal disaffected drawl nowhere in evidence.

Heather sat down on the cream colored couch in the dark wood paneled study.  The bookshelves were bursting with not only books but magical looking artifacts too.  They hummed pleasantly in the background, and Heather could feel her shoulders unknotting.  There was something about the magic in the air that suited her. “Uncle, when I met with the Goblins, they said that my magical guardian was responsible for teaching me about my position in society.  That he should have met with me frequently throughout my childhood, and made sure that I knew what my responsibilities are.” Lucius nodded, and poured himself a crystal glass of amber alcohol. He offered Narcissa some white wine while he waited for Heather to continue.  “I’ve never met him before, and I’ve only seen his name written down twice.” 

Lucius’s eyes narrowed as he watched her. “And who exactly are you referring to?”  He sipped his liquor, watching her over the top of the glass.

“Albus Dumbledore,” her eyes were dark with anger as she continued.  “Not only that, but he’s been taking money out of my trust vault for years, for my living expenses and tutoring.  My aunt and uncle said that they’ve never gotten a penny. So either Dumbledore is keeping all that money, or my relatives are lying to me.” She took a deep breath, calming herself visibly.  Her magic swirled around her, tasting of citrus and smelling like summertime. It felt like a storm over the horizon, about to break, before she was able to regather control. Lucius shivered at the wash of magic, his hand trembling slightly. “The goblins said that they can’t stop him from being my guardian, but that a law wizard could help.  What can I do? I don’t want him in charge of anything of mine. He left me with those...  _ people _ and stole money and heirlooms from my vault!”  

Lucius set his drink down with a click and hummed thoughtfully.  “I see. I’ll assume that the goblins have the money side of things handled?” He continued after she nodded.  “Alright. Now, you’re about to be at school under his control for the next ten months. There’s no point in showing our hand too early.”

Heather nodded, her temper under enough control now that she could relax her hands. “Of course.  We have to wait for the right moment before we strike.” A predatory smile slipped across her face, and her eyes burned with cold fire.  The Malfoys both shivered, for different reasons. Lucius could feel her magic pacing it’s cage like a giant cat ready to savage the next person that ventured too close.  Narcissa was reminded of her sister, Bellatrix, and the viciousness that she had shown from the cradle. She could almost pity Dumbledore. A Black was a dangerous enemy, and Heather had clearly marked him as her enemy.

 

**Meanwhile, in Scotland**

“Minerva!  I’ve finished the charms to get Heather her letter!  Here, look,” Albus said, with a twinkle in his eye, gesturing to some parchment on his cluttered desk.  Fawkes preened his feathers off to the side, and the portraits of former headmasters looked on. Minerva frowned, and sat down in the overstuffed crimson chair in front of his desk.

“But why would we need any charms?  Heather Potter has already sent in her acceptance.” She sounded as puzzled as she looked.  “If you were concerned, why didn’t you just arrange for me to visit there first?”

“Never mind that!  I’ll just call Hagrid in, and have him go pick up the girl, get her the supplies she needs.” He nodded, a minor setback on handling her entry into the Wizarding World, but nothing major.  Hagrid would make certain that everything else followed the plan.

“Albus, I’ve already handled everything. Two days ago, I sent Severus out to take her shopping.  Didn’t he tell you?” She frowned even more deeply at the headmaster. The groundskeeper was not the most reassuring looking person if you were a young child, and she couldn’t see why that he’d be sent instead of one of the teachers. “And really, Hagrid? He’s not a teacher.”

“Well, no he’s not.. But he knew her parents!” He manfully ignored her muttering that everyone else knew them too.  “Thank you for your help.” He rested his forehead in his hands as soon as the door closed behind his Deputy.  _ This is not right at all.  I was supposed to send her hundreds of letters, until finally Hagrid could get her to Diagon.  Surely this won’t change that much, though. Hopefully Severus made sure she got the right impression about Slytherin. I can’t leave this to chance, she’s too important to the future. Gryffindor is the best place for a young hero like Heather, I need to make sure she ends up there!   _ Fawkes watched his master plot with many a glance at the sorting hat, in commiseration.

 

The next day, he summoned Severus to his office.  “My dear boy! Thank you for joining me. Lemon drop? Tea?”

Severus stood in the doorway, looking aggravated.  “No, thank you. I have several potions brewing, and only have a few minutes, what do you need?” Rather than take a seat in front of the desk, he leaned against the wall by the bookshelf.

“I heard that you were the one to take Heather Potter to do her school shopping, my boy.  I hope you were able to put aside your silly schoolboy fight with her father and help her?” His blue eyes twinkled, as he watched the sour potions master over his half moon glasses.

Severus frowned deeply. “I don’t know why Minerva made me take her shopping, I don’t have time for that sort of thing.” He thought quickly.  Lucius had told him that they weren’t planning on acting on any sort of custody attempt until the school year was wrapping up, and he didn’t want Dumbledore sticking his nose in any further.  “She is just as impossible as her father. Obviously spoiled rotten.” He sneered, and continued, “and it was not a schoolyard fight, they nearly murdered me, you--”

Albus cut in, his eyes twinkling brightly, “Now, Severus, there’s no need to overreact.  I’m sure she’s a delightful girl, full of pranks, just like her father.”

Severus shook his head, and took the comment for a dismissal, swirling his robes around him perfectly as he turned to leave. “Whatever you say, old man.” As soon as he was back in his personal potions lab, presiding over several large cauldrons of pepper up for the infirmary, he smiled darkly to himself.  _ That ought to give her some breathing room.  I don’t want him to go looking for her and discover she’s at Malfoy Manor.   _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep saying thank you for all the comments and kudos, and that is because I'm honestly overwhelmed at the great response! I'm still enough ahead of the chapter I'm posting to keep up with the Wednesday/Sunday update schedule I've set.


	8. Leaving the Malfoys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather spends a very nice two weeks with the Malfoys before moving on.

CHAPTER 8

Two weeks passed peacefully, as Heather spent her time split between lessons with Narcissa, reading her books, and organizing her mind.  She hadn’t spoken to Marvolo, but she could feel him, curled up in a chair in front of a fire just outside of her work room. Draco finally returned after a week, but relations between the two had cooled significantly.  After another uncomfortable dinner, Heather glanced around the table. “Tomorrow, I’ll be returning to my house.” She spoke as if it were simple fact, not inviting comment.

The adults both looked at her, frowning.  Draco looked down at his plate, hiding his pleasure.  “It will be fine. I have things I need to set in order before I leave Surrey, and I might not go back there again.  I don’t want to leave any of my things behind.” 

Narcissa frowned more deeply. “Really, I could accompany you to pick up your things, and you could come right back here.” 

Heather shook her head. “No, I’ve been thinking.  If we don’t want Dumbledore to suspect anything, so we can strike cleanly later, I need to get to school on my own.  What would he think if I managed to get there by Floo, or if you apparated me there? He would  _ know  _ and I can’t let him know anything before I’m ready.  I’m nowhere near ready yet.” Her eyes burned with determination, and her voice was steady.

Both adults let it go at that point, but they had contemplative frowns on their faces. After they went to bed that evening, Narcissa broke their silence. “She’s leaving because of Draco.  What are we going to do about it? We can’t just let her wander all over the city alone!” 

Lucius nodded, sighing deeply. “I don’t know what we really can do.  We’re not her guardians, and the ones she has are fine with what she’s doing.  Well, the ones who know. I don’t think we have much choice, if we want to keep our plans quiet.  When we’re ready to play our hand, we can make sure this never happens again. How about we send an elf to your vault, and you get your old portkey for her?  We can key it to our manor, and since she is a Black it would be appropriate...” Narcissa brightened, and brushed a kiss over his evening stubbled cheek.

“Wonderful idea, my love.”  Very little else was said that evening, but not much sleeping was done either.  Narcissa spent most of the night tossing and turning, thinking about what could go wrong.

The next morning, Narcissa slipped a necklace onto Heather.  It was a silver chain, with a raven dangling from it, long enough to be hidden by all of her dresses. “This is a portkey.  If you need a way out, for any reason, just grab the raven and say ‘toujours pur’. It will bring you back here, but no one else will come, even if they’re touching you.”

Heather’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded, unable to speak.  She squeezed Narcissa’s hand, gratitude shining in her damp eyes. She looked down at the symbol of the House of Black, a silver raven with rubies for eyes, and tucked it under her white silk blouse.  Lucius gripped her shoulder briefly. “I’ll take you to the Leaky Cauldron, when you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready now, sir.” Heather straightened her navy blue skirt and smoothed a hand over her french braid.  She wasn’t wearing robes, in preparation to re-entering the Muggle world, and her trunk was in her pocket. 

 

oOo

Heather took a deep breath as she left the Leaky Cauldron.  It was the first time she’d been on her own completely since her professor escorted her to Diagon Alley, and it was a relief.   _ I really like Cissa and Lucius, but it’s nice to have breathing room again.  I didn’t think they’d let me go before school started, but I guess the chance to strike at Dumbledore was worth it to them.   _ Instead of getting on the train to go back to Surrey, Heather headed to a muggle shopping center, intent on finding more supplies for school and muggle clothes now that she had money.  In short order, she had picked up fountain pens and calligraphy books, more clothing, hair accessories, and enough sewing supplies to set up her very own craft room. After all the purchases were tucked away in her trunk, she went back to the Leaky Cauldron.  Releasing her magic to swirl it around her, she made herself seem uninteresting, like the first time she visited. A quick search of the alley found an offshoot that contained stores more for residents than for school shoppers. She was able to purchase groceries with stasis spells so they were always fresh, cookbooks, pots, pans, and even furniture.  Rather than draw attention to herself by buying an entire flat’s worth of furniture at once, she picked up a desk and chair and an owl order form. 

One very pleasant day of shopping later, Heather went back to Surrey.  Keeping up the look away vibes was getting tiring, but she didn’t like the way some of the adults on the train looked at her when she passed by.  Eventually, she stopped at a park down the road from her relatives’ house. Setting her trunk in a copse of trees concealed by a large bush, she made sure that the security features were active. Finally, she went down into her flat, and took a deep breath.  “At last. I mean, the Malfoys are nice and all, but having my own space? That’s priceless, right Hedwig?” She looked over at her owl, sitting on the perch inside the study area. Several hours later, she had the desk set up, the kitchen supplies put away, and had sent off an owl order for the rest of the furniture she would need, including a ridiculously frilly canopy bed for her bedroom.  “Now, to plan my return to the Dursleys... I bet if I wait until ten tomorrow morning, I can get in and out, with all my things, and leave them a note so I don’t have to talk to them. Or wait! What if I just set up in the attic? Petunia never goes up there in the summertime, it’s too hot. I won’t have to worry about any magical people stumbling over the trunk, and I can just pretend I’m not even there.” She thought it over some more, then nodded.  “Yeah. That’ll be perfect. They’ll never notice, and I can really dig in to all these new books. I’ll eat better than any other time I’ve been there, that’s for sure.” Two weeks of eating regularly without any special effort had already started softening her sharp angles, and she couldn’t wait to maybe even start developing a figure. 

The following morning, Heather let herself into her relatives’ house with the spare key they hid for Dudley.  He wasn’t reliable enough to keep up with a key, so they kept a spare in a very obvious plastic rock by the front door. She wrote a note for her Aunt, and left it on the kitchen table.  In her room, she quickly gathered up her best few dresses, and her personal projects. She also got the school books that her aunt had already purchased for the next term.  _ I’m supposed to be taking my GCSEs next summer.  Maybe I can keep up with some of the course work.  Hogwarts doesn’t offer maths and science, or even grammar! Shameful.  _

The next two weeks were spent practicing calligraphy with a quill and a fountain pen, reviewing the books on etiquette, investing, politics, and history that she had picked up, in addition to her first year books.  Most importantly, she spent at least half the day meditating and working on mental defenses with Marvolo’s help. He was driven, and pushed Heather to her limits every day. She fell into bed, magically exhausted every night.  Her dreams were disturbed by flashes of green light and mocking laughter, as well as memories of the Dursleys’ cruel treatment. Sorting out eleven years worth of memories was painful, and stirred up moments she had managed to forget.  It was worth it, though, because every morning she felt sharper than the day before.

One week into her new routine, she ventured out of the attic.  The Dursleys were away for the next week, according to the summer calendar, and she was looking forward to a week of sunshine.   _ I do like living in the trunk, but I miss the sun and plants. I wonder if someday I can make a trunk world that has a park in it, and let the sun shine in...   _ She smiled to herself, a very different sort of smile than she normally used.  It was soft and hopeful, completely uncalculated. Carefully opening the hatch from the attic, Heather listened, and grinned even bigger. “They are gone!  Perfect!” She let herself down and wandered into the kitchen. It was nowhere near as clean as she used to keep it, but other than the clutter on the table, it wasn’t terrible. The wall calendar still showed the vacation she remembered, and Heather relaxed.  After a quick breakfast of fresh fruit and yogurt, she went out into the backyard.

~Breeze, are you around? I have so much news!~ she hissed as she walked towards his favorite sunning spot.  She heard a grumbling hissy sound from near the shed and walked over, squatting down to see her first friend. 

~Little hatchling, where have you been?! I leave you alone for a few moons, and then you just wander off? Who told you you could leave this nest? I thought a hawk might have taken you!~ His scolding made her smile, and she reached out to caress him.

~Breeze, I found out that there’s a whole world full of people who can do magic like me! And they said I get to go to school to learn spells and everything.  I found out about the man who killed my parents, and met people who might be friends, and found someone who said that he could maybe help me leave this cold nest and find a warm one!~ She paused, and looked shyly away. ~Did you.. Did you want to come with me? It’s far away, but I could take care of you! And it’s only for most of the year...~ She whispered hopefully.

Breeze slipped into her lap, then up onto her shoulders, tightening comfortingly. ~I’m so glad you found better nestmates. You should be warm and well fed every day.~ She smiled, petting his head as he nuzzled her cheek. ~I can’t go with you, though. This is my nest.  I’m an old snake, and can’t migrate. I’m not a bird, and I’m not young. Little hatchlings can get used to wandering all over the world, but not me.~ She nodded, disappointed, but expecting that answer. Breeze had never even been willing to go to school with her when it was only three kilometers away. ~You will make new snake friends in your new nest, hatchling.~  She spent the rest of the day lazing on a warm rock in the sunshine with her first friend, sharing information about hunts to come and prey already caught. She even brought him inside, so he could meet Hedwig and examine her new nest. The rest of the week, she managed to squeeze at least a couple hours of visiting time with Breeze, even if it was just reading her new books outside in the sun.  

She ventured out to Diagon alley one more time before school started, to meet with Ragnock about the new investments she was considering for her Black and Peverell Heir vaults. “Ragnock, I wanted to confirm.. No one else knows about the Black and Peverell accounts, right? I don’t want Dumbledore having access to those, too.”

Ragnock nodded, understandingly. “Now that you’ve claimed your Heir rings, no one can access your account without you being present.  If you’d like, for an additional fee, we can up the security on all of your accounts. This would mean a bit of blood was required to open them, and you would have to be tested for potions and controlling spells.  Would that be acceptable?” Heather brightened and nodded.

“How much money are you talking about per account?” She asked.  He grinned, pleased with her question.

“It’s normally fifty galleons a year, per account.  Given the irregularities in your trust vault, I can waive the costs for the Potter account for the next year.” His grin was toothy, as per usual.

Heather returned his smile. “How about ten years?”

He laughed, and shook his head. “I’ll give you one free year on all three of your accessible accounts. That’s the best I can do.” 

She nodded, pleased. “Now, on to the other reason I’m here. Are there any rules about investing in muggle businesses? I’ve read more about how muggle stocks work than magical, and there are a few companies I’m interested in.” She smiles sharply at him, showing far too many teeth.  She had spent many boring days in the public library reading about investment, in her eternal quest for independence. He returns the bloodthirsty expression, then nods.

“You can invest in whatever businesses you like.  I can offer a bit of advice from time to time, if you’d care to pay for it.” A galleon appeared in his hand, tumbled over the back of it, then flipped back into his palm like a muggle magician. 

“I want to buy a drill company,” she announced, firmly.  “I don’t think it’s the most profitable, and I don’t have to own it today, but I’d like controlling interest as quietly as I can get it.  It’s called Grunnings. Other than that, I have a list.” She slid a piece of parchment over to him, almost bouncing in her seat. 

“Grunnings? Why do you want them?” His voice reflected his puzzlement, as the rest of the companies on her list were electronic and entertainment related.

“That’s where my uncle works” Her eyes sparked with malice, and he returned her grin, relaxing into his chair.

“I’ll get started on this right away. How quick you want progress? If you want to keep these accounts healthy financially, I’m going to have to move pretty slow, let your investments pay back some before I get more shares.”

She nodded, calming down. “Really, as long as I’ve got control of the business by the time I claim the Peverell title, it will be fine.  I need to keep these accounts healthy, I don’t ever want to worry about foo--- money again.” Her eyes darted to him, to see if he caught her slip. His eyes darkened, but he didn’t comment on the word choice.  She quickly made her goodbyes and headed out

The last day of August, she stepped into her mindscape to meet with Marvolo after breakfast.  He didn’t notice her arrival at first, and was humming to himself as he browsed through some of the books she had replicated in her mindscape study.  Her jaw dropped and her eyes got huge. “Omigosh, that’s why your voice sounds so familiar!” She collapsed in her chair, stunned. “I’ve heard you singing to me since before I can remember.”

Marvolo turned when she spoke, frowning at her in confusion. “You heard me? I never spoke to you, though...” He shook his head and sat down as well.  “No matter. We have more important things to discuss. Tomorrow, you board the train for the first time. You have to be be ready.” He looked at her fondly, nostalgia clear on his face.  “Remember what I’ve told you, keep on guard around that old goat, don’t let him know that you can speak with snakes, and avoid eye contact!”

Heather rolled her eyes. “I  _ knowwwww,  _ ok?” She sighed deeply, setting aside her revelation. “How many times are you going to tell me? I’ve got this!” She looked down, fiddling with the hem of her shirt, then looked back at him. “Will you still help me if I end up sorted into Gryffindor?” Her nerves were clear on her face for once.

A small smile curled his lips, and he rested a hand on her shoulder, a rare indulgence. “Of course I will.  But you won’t end up a lion, little one. We both know you’d eat them alive. Your bed will be green and silver.” 

She frowned. “I mean, I’d love to go there, but .. Wouldn’t it be safer if I ended up in Ravenclaw? Dumbledore will know something’s up if I end up a snake. I don’t want him watching me that closely! Maybe a badger... That would be the safest, no one worries about a Hufflepuff.” She scowled, thinking hard. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Now, today, instead of working, I want you to rest up.  I can’t have you exhausted before you even get to school. Go play or whatever it is little girls do when they’re not working.” He smirked at her, before wandering back over to the bookshelves.  

“Alright, Marvolo. Don’t get too bored without me here.” With that, she opened her eyes in the real world, and climbed out of bed.  She twitched the fluffy white duvet back into place, and gently caressed the lacy white curtains tied back on the blond wood pillars.  She looked around, admiring the matching dresser and vanity, and the deep blue rug on the floor. After getting dressed, she returned to the study.  Sitting on the light wood desk was a brown wrapped package. Hedwig was on her perch, asleep. In the center of the room, where most would have put the desk, Heather had a large table, waiting for a sewing machine.  Instead, it had her hand sewing supplies, including a large basket full of embroidery floss.  _ I have got to figure out how to make a machine work here.  Hand sewing a dress just seems like a huge pain. Maybe there’s a magic way to sew? I’ll have to order more books.   _

She unwrapped the package on her desk, revealing a leather journal with brass fittings and a lock.  It was dripping with magic, and she smiled.  _ Finally! I didn’t know it would take so long to order a protected journal.  I can’t have everyone reading my plans, and I’ve got too much to keep them all in my head.   _ She pricked her finger on the provided needle, and three drops of blood soaked into the lock.  She released a bit of magic, and the journal glowed golden for a moment, and then the lock clicked open.   _ I love goblins.  A few galleons, the right questions, and they can get their hands on anything! _ She opened the journal, grabbed her favorite fountain pen, and carefully wrote at the top of the first page, “Operation: DESTROY DUMBLEDORE”  She grinned evilly, and continued. Somewhere in Scotland, an old man shivered as his whole body was covered in goosebumps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are just the best readers ever, seriously. Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos, I am just overwhelmed with the response I've gotten!


	9. The Train and The Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather catches a train, meets new people, and puts on a very old hat

CHAPTER 9

 

The next morning, at ten am sharp, Heather walked in to Kings Cross station.  She had snuck out of her relatives’ house the day before when everyone went out for dinner, and set back up in the park down the road, so getting there was no trouble.  She was wearing her favorite buttercup yellow sundress, and her green leather messenger bag was on her shoulder. Her hair was in a loose fishtail braid, with her fringe covering the all important scar.  She only wore a bit of lip gloss, as she didn’t enjoy putting on makeup every day. Following the instructions that Narcissa had given her, she slipped through a brick column and on to Platform 9 3/4. In front of her, she saw it.  A cherry red steam engine, happily puffing away. She grinned, excited for this next adventure. The platform was quickly filling up as more and more families stepped out of the fireplaces on one side, and others popped into a cordoned off area labeled for Apparition. Still more pushed past her, coming from the same brick column she stepped through.  She saw a young boy standing by an old woman with a vulture on her hat, older kids running around greeting old friends with hugs and excitement, and families hugging eleven year olds with tears in their eyes. She took a deep breath, and headed for the train. Right as she stepped onto the train, she glanced back over her shoulder, and spotted three blond heads leaving the apparition area.  She smiled at them, as Narcissa gave her a once over and a nod of approval. 

 

She quickly went to the compartment Marvolo had told her about, the one in the last of the carriages, two spots from the end on the left side, and installed herself in the corner.  She pulled her trunk out of her bag, placed it on the rack, and tapped it to return it to normal size.  _ I hate leaving it out like this, but it would look weird if I don’t have it visible. Gotta put my masks on now, this is it.  Last moments before everyone knows who I am.  _ She took a deep breath, centered herself, and wrapped her magic up tight in her core, hiding as much of her power as she could.  Opening her brilliant green eyes, she put on an expression filled with awe and excitement. She ran her fingers over the carved initials in the bench she was sitting on, tracing over the TMR.  The excitement on her face was real, her letting the world see it was the mask.  _ They want a savior, someone new to their world who will be their paragon. Someone kind and humble, gentle and good.  I can be that, for a little while at least. I hope... Gentle might be a stretch!  _ Heather watched all the people on the platform as it started to empty, finally.  All of the kids were getting on the train, and the adults were watching them. Five minutes before 11, she noticed a huge commotion at the muggle entrance.  A large crowd of redheads flooded in, the mother arguing with the children. One boy was already in his school robes, and stalking onto the train. Twin boys were on the receiving end of the lecture conducted at top volume.  They rushed onto the train the moment she paused for breath. The smallest boy had a petulant look on his face, and his arms crossed over his chest. His mother shoved him towards the train, as the doors started to close. He was the last person boarding and only just made it.  A littler girl stayed next to the woman, wiping away tears as she watched her brothers go. Glancing around the platform, Heather was able to see disdain on the faces of the Malfoys as they pretended they couldn’t see the red head. Most of the other parents were also pretending they couldn’t see the outburst, but no one seemed surprised.

Heather pulled a book out of her bag that was resting on the bench next to her, and was about to start reading it when she saw a familiar blond peek in the window.  Draco’s lips tightened as he nodded to her, and he kept walking. Heather’s shoulders slumped.  _ I guess that’s that, then.  If he hasn’t gotten over it by now, he never will. I really wanted to be friends.  Whatever. It’s his loss! It’s not like we’re going to end up in the same house or anything.  He’s bound to be Slytherin, and that one’s not safe for me.  _

Not even one chapter into her book, her compartment door slammed open.  Standing on the other side was a girl with bushy brown hair already in her uniform along with a pudgy blond who looked incredibly uncomfortable.  “Hello, have you seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she announced, stepping into the small room.

“Um.  No... Why not ask a prefect?”  Heather frowned, put off at the rude attitude.   _ Seriously, I spent weeks researching proper manners, and she just barges in like that? Gah. Ugh, and I can’t even be rude to her.   _ A plan hatched quickly and Heather smiled.  _ Excessive politeness it is. _  She extended her hand towards the two.  “My name is Heather Potter, and you are?”

The boy immediately straightened, and took her hand gently.  He squeezed it, before raising it to just below his mouth, kissing the air above.  “Heiress Potter, it’s a pl-pl-pleasure. I’m Heir N-n-neville Longbottom.” 

The brown haired girl looked at the two of them like they were aliens, then burst out, “Heather Potter? Did you know that you’re in Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts? I’ve read all about you!”  She drew breath to continue, only to notice that both of the other children were staring at her incredulously. 

“She’s Hermione Granger,” was all Neville had time to say, before Hermione cut in. 

“Muggle born, the first witch in the family, my parents are so proud! I’ve read all the books, hopefully I can still catch up, I only just learned I was a witch when Professor McGonagall came to my house.  She was a very respectable witch, my parents were ever so impressed. I heard that she’s the head of Gryffindor, and that the headmaster was also in Gryffindor, it seems like the best house to be in. I read that your parents were in Gryffindor too, it was in Magical Modern History, an overview.” Finally, she drew breath.

Heather watched her, wide eyed, amazed at the flow of words.   _ I don’t know anyone, even my friends who can sing, who can manage their breath like that. Maybe she breathes in while still talking? That’s amazing. _  The silence dragged on just a beat too long, and Hermione opened her mouth to start again, when Heather finally spoke.  “I think there’s good parts to every house.” Carefully, she loosed a bit of her magic, letting it slip through the compartment. She wanted to see how these children reacted.  Draco had liked it, but the adults could block. The smell of fresh cut grass and citrus filled the air, as the golden strands of her magic danced around her. “I mean, I rather like the idea that I’d be known for working exceptionally hard, for being very well read, or being ambitious.  Marcus Aurelius said that ‘A man’s worth is no greater than the worth of his ambitions.’” She studied them both carefully as she spoke, a small smile curving her lips. 

Neville smiled and glanced around, “D-d-do you mind if I sit here for a little?” He was still stuttering, but his posture looked more relaxed.

Hermione tensed up even further. “I’m going to go speak to a prefect. Surely one of them can help me find your toad, Neville..”  Heather watched the two of them, curious at the opposite effect that her magic had on each of them.

“Well.  Do come back when you’re done, Ms. Granger.” Her words and tone were polite, but her eyes were frosty, and her expression closed.  Dismissively, she looked away, and over to Neville. “What house do you think you’ll get into?” Her tone was far warmer, and she let her magic dance through the air between them.  As she sent a few more tendrils towards Hermione, she shivered and scrubbed the goosebumps on her arms. 

“I.. Have to go!” Hermione darted off, not even bothering to close the compartment door.

Heather frowned curiously, before wrapping her magic back up. “I’ve not had someone react quite like that to me...  She’s an odd duck.” 

Neville piped up, loyally, “Maybe, but it was nice of her to try and help me find Trevor.  I hope that he doesn’t get eaten, my gran would skin me.”

The two 11 yr olds settled in to a nice chat.  Neville’s stutter diminished the longer they spoke.

Just past one, their door was opened again, this time by a witch pushing a trolley filled with candy.  Heather purchased a few different pastries, as well as sugar quills and some chocolate bars. She didn’t get any chocolate frogs, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the idea.  She sorted through her haul on the bench right next to her, while Neville did the same. A few minutes later, Heather was deeply involved in reading her defense book, while eating a sugar quill.  The door banged open, and a gangly redhead barged in. 

“Hullo!  Neville, did you know hear that Heather Potter is on the train? I can’t wait to meet her, I bet it’s love at first sight.  We’re probably soulmates!” He collapsed on the opposite bench, ignoring Neville’s frantic glances between Heather and him. “I just know it. I’ve read all about her adventures, and my mom agreed we’d be a good match, so really, why  _ wouldn’t _ she like me?” 

Neville’s stutter reappeared, “Um. Ron, r-r-really, n-not the t-t-time...” 

“Anyways!” the boy continued, popping back to his feet, “I better go, love waits for no man!”  Heather watched him incredulously, hiding behind her book when it looked like he might bother to notice her.   _ My future love? A rude ginger with dirt on his face? Who hasn’t even noticed the girl sitting right in front of him? I think not.  _

“Neville... Please close the compartment door... And lock it this time. We’ve had enough visitors.  Who  _ was  _ that??”  Heather blinked several times, then shook her head, turning to pack her extra treats in her bag.

“That was Ronald Weasley, we went to a lot of the same parties growing up.  He’s the sixth son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. They’re purebloods, but not a noble house.  They’re one of the traditional Light party with children my age, so we ended up together a lot of the time.” He shook his head. “I’m really sorry about that. He’s been obsessed with you since he read the first Heather Potter Adventure Series book.” 

Heather frowned deeply. “The what?” Her voice was ice cold and her eyes sparked with fury. “Are there seriously fiction books about me??” 

Neville nodded, his eyes round with worry over her reaction. “I’m s-s-s-orry!” 

Heather calmed her magic, and forced herself to relax. “It’s alright. I just didn’t know, and I don’t like the idea of people writing books about me without permission.  In the muggle world, I could sue them for stealing my name to make money.” 

Neville nodded. “You can do that in Wizarding courts, too.  You just need a good barrister.” 

Heather smiled, all teeth. “Excellent.”  She immediately pulled out a piece of parchment and started writing on it with her favorite fountain pen.

Before long, the two took turns changing into their robes, and got ready to disembark.  The night air was far colder than Heather expected, after the comfortable warmth of the train.  Night had truly fallen, and she could barely see. Finally, the older students headed towards carriages, and she heard the wild haired man from the bank calling “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” A group of the smallest students converged on the giant man.  “Blimey, is that you, Heather? I knew yer folks. Good ter see ya.” Heather nodded, her eyes enormous. She outright refused to step any closer, and just watched him carefully.  _ He sounds nice, but he’s so big.  If he patted me on the shoulder, I’d be on the ground!  _ “A’right now.  Everyone on a boat! No more ‘n four to a boat!” He turned to help a blond girl with pigtails climb into a boat, and Heather quickly turned to Neville. 

“Let’s get in that one.” She pointed to the boat furthest from the groundskeeper.  The redhead from earlier started pushing through the crowd, looking around for whoever Hagrid was talking to.  Heather could easily see him coming, as he was one of the two tallest boys gathered on the shore. She turned and looked at Draco, desperately. He frowned, looking over at the redhead and then back to her. He sighed, and walked over to join her, dragging a blond girl with him.

“Heather, this is Daphne Greengrass. Daphne, this is Heather Potter.” He smirked, and climbed into the boat after Heather and Neville.

Heather whispered, “Thank you Draco.  I owe you.” She then turned to face Daphne, offering her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you Daphne.” They shook briefly, Daphne barely nodding at her.

Neville whispered hellos to both of the blonds, showing that he’d already met them both.  The redhead was forced into a boat with the two large boys that were following Draco around earlier.  Soon enough, everyone was loaded onto a boat, and they started moving with just a word from Hagrid.

The first view of the castle was simply magical.  All of the children, including Draco, gasped when they saw it glowing ahead of them.  Heather could taste the magic rolling off the castle, and it was overwhelming. It tasted like home and safety and joy.  She had never felt something so strongly, and just sat stiffly on the bench, her eyes enormous as they approached the underground dock.

After returning Trevor to Neville one last time, Hagrid escorted the group of shivering children up to a large wooden door.  A very stern looking witch answered his loud knocks. Heather carefully examined the witch, frowning cautiously at her strict and stern demeanour.  After a quick rundown of the houses, and ordering the children to straighten themselves up, she excused herself.

Heather turned to Draco, “Seriously, thank you. You won’t believe..” Neville tapped her on the shoulder and gestured behind her, cutting her off before she could continue.  She glanced over, and the redhead was staring at her, his eyes enormous. Quickly she looked back at Draco. “Um. Well, how was your train ride?” Luckily, they were interrupted by shrieks of fear from the opposite side of the room.  Translucent figures swooped in, arguing with each other. Heather’s neck prickled and she frowned at them. “Ghosts... I didn’t expect them to be quite so.. So.. cheerful.” She made a moue of distaste as she watched them argue over the fate of a poltergeist.  “Why aren’t they more... everything?” she whispered to herself. As she watched the argument, one of the ghosts watched her. He was covered in silvery blood, wrapped in chains. 

The stern witch returned, chivvied them into a line, two by two, and escorted them into the Great Hall.  Overhead, she could see the night sky instead of the ceiling, and candles floated in midair. She heard Hermione’s voice behind her, babbling about where exactly in Hogwarts: a History this was described.   _ No sense of the moment! Ugh, that girl.  _ She exchanged a look of distaste with Draco.  

The children were quickly arranged in a line in front of the staff table, looking at a dirty, dusty old hat sitting on a four legged stool.  There were four tables in front of them, arranged lengthwise. House banners hung over each table, making it clear the division. Just when the tension was starting to make Heather’s palms sweat, a rip in the hat opened up, and he began to sing.  The song offered the barest descriptions of the houses, and it was surprisingly in tune given the singer had neither lungs nor mouth.  _ Magic is amazing! I wonder if I could enchant clothing like that.. How smart is that hat?   _

Heather contemplated the nature of the enchantments that must be on the hat to make it sing like that while the sorting began.  She paid just enough attention to notice the annoying girl from the train being sorted into Gryffindor, along with Neville. Draco was up next, and sorted into Slytherin before McGonagall even let go of the hat, something that seemed to make him very proud.  Finally, she called out, “Potter, Heather!” The hall broke out into whispers as Heather carefully stepped forward. Using every bit of the grace she had drilled into herself through years of dance, she sat down on the stool, only to have the hat cover her eyes when it was dropped over her braids.

**_Well, well, well, what do we have here?  Those are some fine shields, young lady.  Someone has been working hard! Sharp mind in there!_ **

_ Oh yes! Ravenclaw would be grand!  _ She replied in her head.  Her hands clenched into fists in her lap as she thought as hard as she could at the hat.

**_You remind me of someone... Someone I met about fifty years ago.  Hmmm... Now, you’re not particularly loyal, not to anyone but yourself or your friends.  Brave, yes, but only when necessary. But cunning and ambition!_ **

_ Really, Ravenclaw would be lovely, I mean, I do love books and knowledge... _ Her mind flashed over to a memory of Marvolo drilling her on her first year defense text, and the hat pounced on it.

**_Oh, and who is that?_ **

Heather quickly shoved the memory back where it belonged, and pushed at the Hat’s intrusion into her mind.  _ Uh, what do you mean? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ravenclaw....   _

She scrambled in her head, hiding the bits and pieces she didn’t want examined by the hat, while he continued mumbling in her head.  She could hear the crowd starting to get restless, when the hat continued.  **_I see what you mean.  Better be....._ **

 

SLYTHERIN!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not update Sunday, it might have to wait until next Wednesday, as I'll be out of town. Enjoy!


	10. After the Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather finds her dorm and meets her new classmates

CHAPTER 10

Heather’s whole body tensed up, and she fought her face back into a neutral expression before McGonagall removed the hat.  In her mind she was cursing up a storm as she stood gracefully, and walked over to the table with green and silver banners.  The entire hall was dead silent. As she reached her seat, the next student was called, and whispers broke out amongst the older students.  

Heather smiled at Draco, who was sitting directly across from her.  “I don’t think my sorting went the way that anyone expected it to go.”  Her tone was mild, and her expression calm. 

Further down the table, an older boy with dark hair sneered at her. “No, no one expected Saint Potter to end up with the evil snakes.” He muttered to the boy sitting next to him, “I’ll be surprised if she lasts a week.” 

Up at the staff table, the Headmaster hadn’t taken his eyes off of Heather, and he had a pensive look on his face. Snape glared at his table, which had an immediate effect.  Everyone’s spines straightened, and there were no more whispers. Heather used the reprieve to try and figure out where she had gone wrong.  _ I’ve been planning this for weeks! I bet if it was a person sorting us, I could have talked them around.  How could that blasted hat do this to me?! Now everyone’s going to be staring at me. Maybe it won’t be that bad?  I mean, really, how many Slytherins are going to really believe that a one yearr old child defeated a Dark Lord?  _ She glanced cautiously down the table, noting the number of dark glares being sent her way, and looked back down at her hands.   _ Will the rest of the school really think I’m an evil dark witch already?   _ She looked over the other tables, full of students whispering and pointing at her, then up at the students waiting to be sorted.  The redhead with the crush from the train was glaring at her, as if she had kicked his puppy.  _ Oh dear. This is not going to be easy. _

Finally the sorting concluded when a dark skinned boy named Zabini, Blaise was sorted into Slytherin and sat down next to Heather.  The headmaster mumbled some nonsense words, and more food than Heather had ever seen at one time appeared on the table. Her eyes got huge, and she kept a careful eye on the other children to see what sort of manners they were using.  Luckily, it was far less formal than the practice dinners that Narcissa had taught her with, so she was able to comport herself appropriately. When she looked at the red and gold table, she was shocked at how exuberantly they were eating, and the complete lack of manners employed.  _ It’s a good thing I didn’t end up Gryffindor, I wouldn’t have made it through one meal! Too loud and messy by far.  _

Severus watched his snakes eat, keeping an eye on the interactions between Heather and her housemates.  While the children ate, he glanced over at the Deputy Headmistress, sitting right next to him. “Well, Minerva? Are you going to pay up?” He allowed a small smirk to show, before returning to the stoney expression the children expected of him.  

“Yes, yes, Severus. I don’t see how you knew she wasn’t going to be a Gryffindor, I mean, really. Every other Potter for four generations has been, why would that change now?” She continued grumbling as she pulled two galleons out and slipped them to him.  Professor Sprout, seated on the other side of Minerva just shook her head.

“I don’t know why you keep betting with him, Minerva.  He never takes a bet he’s not sure he’ll win. Do you just like giving him galleons?” She sipped her water, her eyes laughing at the pair of them.

Severus sniffed disdainfully, “No one takes a bet they don’t think they’ll win, that would be ridiculous.  I mean, no one wanted to bet on the young Malfoy or Weasley’s sortings...” Quirrell sat silently on the other side of Severus, his eyes on the newest snakes as he ate.  

 

Heather smiled at Daphne, who was sitting next to Draco. “I’m glad that there’s another girl I’ve met in the house, hopefully we can be friends.” 

Daphne blinked several times, then turned her eyes to the girl across from her.  She had short dark hair and a snub nose. She raised an eyebrow, as if to say “Can you believe this??” and continued to eat her food without returning Heather’s greeting.

Heather’s lips tightened, but she kept her smile in place and continued eating.  The food was far better than anything she had found at the grocery store, and she whispered, “The food is delicious, thank you chef.”  When dessert appeared at the table, several dishes crowded the area in front of Heather, even though there were blank places further down.  Her eyes sparkled as she eyed all the sweet treats. Restraining herself slightly, she only served herself a piece of treacle tart and some fresh berries with whipped cream. All the other girls but one stuck to just the fresh fruit.  On her side of the table, a larger girl with a solid sort of presence had a slice of chocolate cake and a few biscuits. Heather caught her eye and smiled. 

The plates returned to their clean, golden state, and the headmaster stood from his throne.   _ Seriously? His dining chair is a golden throne? Wizards are so bizarre.  _ “Welcome back, students! A few start of term notices for you.  Please remember that the Forbidden Forest is just that, forbidden.  Mr. Filch reminds you that there are to be no spells in the hallways, and that the list of forbidden items can be found outside his office.  Also, the third floor corridor is to be avoided by any who do not wish to die a painful death.” Heather blinked quickly several times, then exchanged an incredulous look with Draco.  After a truly painful rendition of the school song, they were dismissed into the care of the two fifth year prefects. Heather made her way over to the other dessert loving girl. “Hullo.  I’m Heather Potter,” she said while extending her hand.

The girl frowned at her, suspiciously, but took her hand for a brief shake. “Millicent Bulstrode.” They had no more time for chatting, as they were swiftly lead down into the dungeons below the school.  Unlike the halls above ground, there were no portraits here, only torches in metal brackets. The temperature dropped significantly, and it felt damp. Heather yawned as they finally drew to a stop. The female prefect, who introduced herself as Gemma Farley, turned to face a blank wall.  

“Hollyhock.” With that, the wall dissolved into an archway, rather like the entrance to Diagon Alley.  Heather looked around the hall before she entered, finally noting a small carving of a snake near the ground on either side of the arch.  Inside, her first thought was “elegant”. The room was dark, but more like an exclusive club than a dungeon. The walls were polished stone, softened with tapestries depicting famous battles and daily life hundreds of years ago.  There were several fireplaces dotted around the room, all with fires burning. Oil lamps burned on the walls. Green couches and grey wingback chairs were arranged in multiple seating areas. There was a wall without any tapestries that was covered in bookshelves, only interrupted by one door.  In the back of the room was a giant window that looked out into the lake with a long bench seat in front of it. Two hallways interrupted the wall opposite the library wall. Older students eyed the new ones as they drifted to preferred seating areas. Some went straight to the hallways, talking animatedly with their friends.  Everyone but the first years seemed far more relaxed now.

“Alright, listen up firsties.  I’m going to give you a quick rundown of the rules, then Professor Snape will add anything he needs to.  Rule 1: Slytherin presents a united front. Don’t go airing your dirty laundry in front of any other house, that’s a weakness and we cannot abide that.  Rule 2: Don’t get caught. We don’t care what you’ve done, if you’re not losing us house points and making us look bad. Rule 3: If you lose points, get them back, double.  We’ve won the house cup for 7 years running, and you don’t want to ruin it for us. Rule 4: If you fight in the common room, don’t involve anyone else. No one wants to get hexed because you can’t control your spells, so either keep it to your dorm rooms, or...” She sounded incredibly matter of fact as she gave the rundown, and Heather’s eyes got big.

_ Seriously, don’t get caught is a rule?? What is this place? I mean, other than awesome!  _ She started contemplating the freedom that represented.  Gemma went to continue when their head of house swept into view. He was wearing a lightweight black robe that billowed as he turned to face the nervous group of eleven year olds.  The older children straightened up and turned to face them all as well, most of their attention on the firsties, to see their reaction to the intimidating professor. He frowned deeply at them, meeting each of their eyes.  “I’m certain Miss Farley has explained the rules to you all. I anticipate no... problems... this year.” His eyes paused briefly on Heather, before continuing on over Draco and Daphne. Heather tilted her chin up slightly, keeping her back straight, and her expression set.  “If you have an issue that you cannot settle with the help of the prefects, or your classmates, then you may knock on my door.” He gestured to the door between the bookshelves. “If you are mistaken in the urgency, then you will regret your lack of judgement. I will meet with each of you, and perform a health scan within the first month.  You will receive a note with your time. If you have any medical potions that you must take, provide me with the list and I will make certain that you receive them. Any questions?” While he asked for questions, he didn’t pause, but swept out of the room, only pausing to speak with a group of seventh years near the largest fireplace.

Avitus Avery, the male prefect, spoke for the first time.  He had brown hair like Gemma, but his was kept closely cropped. His brows were pronounced and looked like he was already tired of his job. “Slytherins value privacy.  Each of you will have your own room, but a bathroom is shared between two. No one is allowed in your room without an invitation, except the heads of houses and headmaster of course.” With that, he led the boys off to the hallway on the left, while Gemma took the girls to the right. Just before he got out of sight, Draco smiled at her briefly.

In the hall, there were several doors, each labeled with a year.  “Seventh years are down that hall, sixth down that. Firsts are all the way in the back, so get used to a walk.”  They reached the end of the hall, which really wasn’t that far, and came to a wooden door with a sign stating “First Year Girls” in script.  On the other side of the door, which was the only one on the back wall, instead of to the left or right. They quickly found their rooms, each with their name written on a small plaque on the door. Heather’s was the furthest from the door, which made her smile.  _ That’s good. I’d rather be in the back than the middle. Don’t want to feel surrounded all the time. _ Gemma excused herself, her brown ponytail bouncing behind her as she left to find her friends.  Daphne and Pansy immediately started chatting as they went into their rooms, leaving them propped open to the hallway.  Tracey and Millicent quietly entered their rooms, with only Millicent nodding at Heather. She opened the door to her room, and her jaw dropped.   _ I expected a tiny little dorm room, like the size of a closet!  This is huge!  _ While the room wasn’t the size of the one she used at the Malfoys, it was generously sized.  To the left there was a desk with a cork board above it and a chair in front. A small fireplace waited on the opposite side from the desk.  The bed and a wardrobe were on the wall facing the door. Another door right next to the desk led to the bathroom. There was room for more furniture, and Heather decided to see what she could find to kit out her room.  The floor and walls were both bare stone, but polished nicely. One tapestry warmed the wall behind the bed. And what a bed! It was a four poster, with dark green curtains. The duvet was also dark green, but the sheets were crisp white. Snakes were carved in the wood, so it looked like they were what supported the curtains.  Heather caressed the wood, and looked around. “Maybe the hat was right... Maybe this is where I fit best.” She smiled softly, and started unpacking her clothing.

As soon as she was unpacked, she opened the door to the bathroom, to set up her toiletries.  The bathroom was just as nice as the rooms, in that it was simple, but well appointed. There was a double sink with a large mirror, dark shelves on either side for two girls’ things.  A small closet and a laundry basket completed the room. Two doors were opposite the mirror, one of which lead to a shower room and the other to the loo. Heather had just finished setting out her shower things on the shelf provided, the door to the other dorm opened.  “Oh, hello Daphne,” Heather said politely. 

Daphne sniffed a little then nodded grudgingly to Heather. “Hello, Potter.”   Heather knitted her brow, frowning a little, and relaxed her grip on her magic.   _ I want to know how she reacts to my magic.  Maybe she’ll run away like that other girl did. _  As her golden magic slipped free of her core, winding its way around the small bathroom, Daphne took a deep breath.  She glanced around curiously, feeling something different in the air, but not seeming to recognize the source. Her posture relaxed, and she smiled a little, seemingly in spite of herself. She looked back at Heather, who returned her smile.

“I hope that we can be friendly, Miss Greengrass. It would be a very long year if we weren’t.” Heather gestured to the bathroom they’d be sharing.

Daphne nodded again.  “Of course, Miss Potter.  Life would be more pleasant if we could work things out. You... You can call me Daphne if you’d like.  Since we’re sharing quarters.” She looked hesitating again, not certain of the words coming out of her mouth.

Heather brightened, her magic swirling happily around Daphne.  Daphne’s aura seemed to brighten as well, and it’s lilac color looked very nice with Heather’s gold.  They seemed harmonious. “Of course, Daphne, but only if you’ll call me Heather. I’m not used to people just calling me by my last name, it’s still kind of new to me.” After a few more minutes of conversation, both girls excused themselves for bed, with a very tentative friendship in the works.   _ I wonder why she reacted so differently than that Hermione girl. Maybe there’s a pattern for who likes my magic touching them and who doesn’t? It’s going to be hard to figure out if I don’t know what it is they’re sensing.  Why doesn’t anyone else let their magic out like this? Maybe Marvolo will know what’s going on. Until then....  _ She pulled out her journal, and started a list. There were four categories: Likes, Dislikes, Neutral, Notices.  She quickly noted down the ones she remembered, putting Draco, Daphne, Quirrell, Narcissa, and Neville under Like, Hermione under Dislike, and Lucius under Notices.  Severus went under Neutral. “I’ve got a lot of testing to do,” she said, before neatening her desk for bed.

oOo

Upstairs, Professor Quirrell was locked in his mind while Voldemort used his body to pace back and forth across the room, thinking quickly.   _ That child! Heather Potter. If I had met her for the first time at the sorting, heard her name, knew who she was, would I have even noticed her magic? Would I have even cared? But no! I saw her after I felt her magic wash over me, that wondrous feeling.. How can it be so strong? She’s just a child, raised in ridiculous luxury like the rest of the purebred brats at this infernal school. But her magic... I must get to know her, find out why she feels familiar and new all at once.  But carefully.. I don’t want that old goat asking any questions. What if.. What if I start a club? I could name an assistant from each year, and of course pick his precious Girl Who Lived. That would let me talk to her without drawing as much attention. _  He continued pacing for a moment, before stopping and staring out the window at the forbidden forest. “I wish I knew what Dumbledore’s planning,” he whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not late! And I've got the next chapter about ready, so no delays yet. Thanks again for reading! I love all the comments.


	11. First Day of Classes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day?? That's all this was? But it was a very busy day! Heather meets two of her teachers, talks to her classmates, and makes a new friend.

CHAPTER 11

The next morning, Heather woke up at five, like normal.  She quickly showered and changed for the day, tightly french braiding her hair. Not wanting to have to come back after breakfast, she slipped all of her school books and enough supplies for the day into her expandable green bag.  She left all of the snacks she got on the train in her trunk for later. Quietly, she made her way to the common room. There was no noise from any of the other doors she passed, and the common room was also deserted. The fires snapped to life as she entered the room, warming it quickly.  Taking the opportunity, she went over to examine the books on the shelves. She found a book on magical theory, and settled in to read in a chair close to the fireplace.  _ I could probably find the Great Hall, but I really don’t want to get lost on my first day.   _

Distracted by her book, her usual iron control over her magic loosened.  She felt more content here at Hogwarts than she had anywhere else, and her magic seeped out of her core, slipping around the common room on the air currents.  Unbeknownst to her, the door to Snape’s rooms opened, and observed her quietly for a moment before entering the room. The moment he finished entering the room, her magic finally touched his aura.  Her head shot up, and she turned to look at him, while struggling to pull her magic back in. “Oh! I didn’t see you there, Professor. Good morning.” She smiled awkwardly, clearly nervous about his reaction.

He took a deep breath, blinking rapidly.  _ Merlin... So much magic! Lily didn’t have anywhere near that sort of potential.  Potter was powerful, but this child.. The last time I felt this much power was ... The Dark Lord.  _ “Well. Yes.  Good morning. I hope your first night went well? If... If you need any help, you may come speak with me.” He sounded uncharacteristically shaken for the first few sentences, but more like himself as he continued.  “Do not abuse this privilege. Of course, if you don’t send a letter to Narcissa as soon as you can, I will not protect you from her disappointment.” He smirked as he looked down at her, all curled up in the chair.

Heather’s eyes got big, and she smiled hesitantly. “You really think she’d like a letter already?”

He sighed, shook his head at her caution. “She’s written me four times since you left their house, and you were only gone for two weeks. Please, send her something.” The girl grinned, and pulled parchment and a fountain pen from her bag to begin writing immediately.

She was almost done with breakfast when Draco finally dropped onto the bench next to her.  “Want to tell me what that Weasley wanted with you?” He drawled, helping himself to some toast and eggs.

“Ugh, don’t remind me, it’s too early to think about gross boys with crushes.” She shivered and added more tea to her mug. “Nightmares.” 

Draco dropped the toast onto his plate, looked her up and down and laughed. “A crush, on you? That’s ridiculous!”

Her eyes flashed with annoyance and she glared at him. “You trying to say something, cousin?” 

He blinked several times, thinking back over what he said, and blanched. “I meant that a blood-traitor weasel like him has no chance with you, that’s all! Anyway, how’d you find out?”

Heather relaxed a little, and gave him a small smile. “He barged into our compartment on the train, didn’t even see me sitting there, and told Neville all about it.” 

Draco laughed out loud, which made many of the more alert older Slytherins look at the pair of first years, before returning to their conversations.  Before they could continue chatting, Professor Snape appeared behind them in a billow of black. “Your schedules... Do not be late for classes, you will not like the consequence,” he drawled, silky smooth threat in his voice.  They both nodded, and bent over the schedules to see where they were expected to be and when.

“Is this right? We have only maybe three classes a day? And only seven classes?” Heather asked, quietly. 

Draco looked at her oddly, and nodded. “Yes, of course.  There are only six basic subjects plus astronomy, until third year, when you pick up two or three electives. And we will add flying classes for part of the term, but not for a while.  The only classes we take these first two years are Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, Herbology, Potions, History of magic, and Astronomy. Astronomy and Potions are only once a week.” 

Heather shook her head, shocked. “This is so strange. Did you ever go to primary school?” He shook his head, puzzled. “I’m used to having six or seven classes every day, and class from 8 to 4. I guess magic classes are more tiring than algebra.” Draco looked back to his food, ignoring her in favor of grabbing a fresh piece of bacon. “Well, whatever. I’m going to go look around a bit before classes start.  See you in Charms.”  _ Two or three classes a day? I bet I can get a lot of my homework done during those free periods, and then maybe I can do some of the correspondence work so I don’t fall behind with my GCSEs. It would be really nice to be able to either go to university or ... I don’t even know, are there magical universities?  _ Heather frowned, thinking deeply as she explored the castle, following the rough map on the back of her schedule towards the Charms classroom.   _ Today I’ve only got Charms and Transfiguration.. Defense and History tomorrow.  I’ll have to see how the homework plays out, but I can spare an hour an evening for muggle studies. That way it won’t interfere with whatever study group I end up in.  They do have study groups, right?  _

Heather stopped pacing, looking out a window over the grounds.  She could see a small wooden shack off in the distance that looked straight out of a fairy tale.  There was smoke coming from the chimney, and a garden patch fenced off around it. Behind the wooden building, there was a dark forest.  Even from here, it looked far darker under the trees than it should be, given the early morning sunshine. Over the branches, she saw a skeletal horse with leathery wings flying.  The bright sun shimmered obscenely on his exposed bones. The juxtaposition of a nightmare horse and cheerful sunshine made her shiver. She turned as she heard students chatting and walking up behind her.  They all filed into the charms classroom, most of the students involved in quiet conversations. Scanning the room, Heather smiled when she saw Neville standing off to himself near the back of the rowdy crowd of red and gold students. She gestured him over to a seat near the front of the classroom.  “Neville, sit with me.” She smiled at him, reassuringly. 

He smiled back, awkwardly, and walked over.  He cautiously looked over at the aloof Slytherin students and back at the noisy Gryffindors before easing down into the chair. “Are you s-s-sure you want to sit with me?” He whispered, not wanting to be overheard. 

Heather just smiled at him. “Of course, you’re my friend, right? So you should sit with me. What is the Gryffindor part of the castle like?” She was very curious what the other dorms and common rooms were like, especially since she’d heard about her parents being Gryffindors. 

Neville relaxed a little as they both got out their Charms books.  “It’s really nice. Everything’s red and gold, of course, and my dorm has all five boys from our year.  We’re in a tow--” He’s cut off as the very small teacher walks into the room. Heather grabbed a blank journal and a fountain pen out of her bag, ignoring the looks from the purebloods around her, who all had rolls of parchment and quills. Hermione Granger glared at her, as she sharpened her quill from her desk in the front and center of the room.  

Heather hears her muttering to herself, “Using a pen and a journal instead of a quill, who does she think she is, the letter  _ clearly _ stated..” She shut her mouth as Professor Flitwick introduced himself and took roll. Heather frowned a little as she saw him almost fall off the stack of books he’s standing on when he got to her name.  _ Why doesn’t he have steps or a shorter lectern? We have magic, and he’s just.. Standing on books? This doesn’t make any sense!  _

After a class full of the introduction to Charms, with an assignment on theory due the next class, the students were dismissed.  Hermione went to speak with the professor about questions she had, while Neville and Heather packed up. The rest of the Gryffindors were already halfway out the door before she’d even stood up properly.  Neville agreed to meet her that afternoon in the library to get started on their homework, and she walked after the rest of the Slytherins to their next class, Transfiguration.

In the hallway, she was greeted with a bunch of calm students in blue and bronze ties, a much different attitude than the rowdy red and gold.  They mixed far more freely with the Slytherins, and it seemed like many of them were already friends. As she watched them interacting, she noticed how blank the pureblood children kept their faces.  Or at least, they tried to. They were going for the unconcerned air that Narcissa used while walking in Diagon with her, but they didn’t seem nearly as well practiced yet. After all, they were only eleven. Heather thought it over.  _ There’s no way that I can go around all day with no expression on my face. It would be super obvious when I lost control, if I tried it.  I mean, these kids look like they’ve been practicing this for years, but what I’ve been practicing is that stupid hostess smile that Petunia’s friends loved.  I’ll just have to make that work for me. Earnest, pleasant, friendly... Not what they expect, but if I really really sell it... I’ll have to ask Marvolo when I get a minute alone. _  She had not mastered speaking in her mindscape while walking around, and didn’t want to try something that new in front of everyone.  The door had opened and everyone had started filing in while she thought, so she gave several of the girls friendly smiles and sat in the front.  Tracey Davis, a halfblood according to the rumors around the breakfast table, was the only one to return her smile, so she sat down next to her. Tracey had shoulder length brown hair pulled up in a ponytail, and was wearing a little bit of makeup, now that she was close enough to tell.  Heather pulled out a fresh notebook and her fountain pen. Tracey eyed it while pulling out her quill box and parchment. 

“Are we allowed to use pens and books instead of parchment?” She whispered quietly, not wanting to disturb the cat sitting on the desk in front of them.

Heather eyed the cat, noticing the spectacle like markings on its face but lifted a shoulder in a half shrug to Tracey.  “No one said we weren’t allowed, so I assumed that meant we were.” She shot a glance at Tracey, a sly grin on her face. Tracey nodded thoughtfully. 

The door swung shut exactly when the clock clicked over to the beginning of class.  Without a hesitation, the cat leapt from the table and transformed into the stern looking Professor McGonagall.  Heather was impressed.  _ I have got to learn how to do that! _  After a long discussion on the dangers inherent in transfiguring items, what not to do, and the basic theory, they were all given matches to turn into needles.  The dark haired girl stared fiercely at the matchstick, envisioning it as her favorite type of embroidery needle, supersharp, with a golden eye. Then she picked up her wand from it’s spot on the desk, and performed the gesture while whispering the incantation they were given.  She concentrated on the feel of her magic, loosing it from her core like when she used her intentions before. As she funnelled the magic down her arm, to her wand, and then at the matchstick, she was distracted by the feeling. Before, she would release her magic, sending tendrils of it where she wanted them to be.  The further it was, or the bigger the effect, the more magic. She had never transformed anything, though. Now, with the wand in her hand, it seemed to pull the magic, and focus it, like light through a magnifying glass. The last little jab of her wand had the needle transfigured perfectly. 

Heather blinked at her desk several times, looked up at the professor, then back down at her needle, and raised her hand.  The older witch walked over after she finished advising a Ravenclaw on the pronunciation. “Well, lets see where you’re struggling, Ms. Potter,” she said with a no-nonsense tone.  

Heather blinked at her several times, then picked up the needle.  “I think I’ve got it.” The professor took the needle from her hand, shocked. 

“On your first attempt? Well... Interesting.  Let me see you change it back.” She looked over the floor, doing a quick scan to make sure there was no matchstick on the ground, half convinced that the girl had cheated.

Heather nodded and set the needle down.  She pictured the matchstick exactly as it had been when she first got it, five minutes ago, and performed the incantation again.  This time, she wasn’t surprised by the way the wand seemed to ease the difficulty of casting, and she was able to apply less magic to the task.  The needle transformed obediently, back into a matchstick, and McGonagall was shocked.

“Oh my!  It seems Miss Potter has got it.  Ten points to Slytherin.” Her nose wrinkled a little as she said the house name, but she patted the girl on the shoulder and continued in a quieter voice.  “Your father was quite good at Transfiguration, and it seems that you’ve inherited his gift. For the rest of class, I’d like you to work on transfiguring the matchstick into different needles. Anything you can envision, you can create.”

Heather nodded slowly. “Thank you!” She smiled at the teacher, prettily, pretending she didn’t notice the moment of suspicion, or the distaste for her house. Rather than following instructions, she pictured a metal barrette made up of silver snakes when she performed the spell again.  As she suspected, it worked. The carvings looked clumsy, and the clasp wasn’t quite right, so she kept trying over and over again until she had it just how she wanted it. Three other students had managed to get their matchsticks silver and pointy, but no one else had completed the transfiguration.  

Professor McGonagall stood in front of the class and said, “Next time we will be continuing with this.  I expect twelve inches on the laws of transfiguration by then. Use at least one source other than your text book.  Turn in your matchsticks before you go.” 

Heather walked to the front of the class after the rest of the students had hurried out, excited for lunch. “Professor? I didn’t exactly make another needle...” She offered her perfected barrette.  It was small, only a little wider than the matchstick, and the snake shimmered in the light from the window. Heather watched her teacher carefully, hoping she wouldn’t be in trouble for experimenting.

“Heather Potter! This is not at all what we were doing, but... It is truly beautiful work.  I am impressed that you were able to see the possibilities of this transfiguration. Next time, please ask before you just attempt something new, though. This is not the class to mess around in, and I won’t have anyone getting hurt because you had an idea.” Her voice was stern, but her eyes were soft as she looked over the barrette and tested the clasp, before handing it back to Heather. “You may keep this.  If you could, transfigure another matchstick before you go, so that I can grade it.” 

Heather nodded again, studied her teacher briefly before taking another matchstick.  She closed her eyes, picturing her goal one more time, then did the spell. Instead of a matching snake barrette, this one was a cat, all stretched out like she was napping in the sun.  It wasn’t silver, but gold colored. She smiled, and offered it to her teacher. “I thought you might like this better than a snake...” She turned and walked out while her teacher stared at the barrette, her mouth gaping open.  _ Magic is so much EASIER with a wand! No wonder everyone likes them so much! I’m glad she was so distracted by my spellwork, all these matchsticks I snagged will come in handy.  I wonder how hard it would be if I made sure that I could do all my spells wandless, too? It’s not like these first year spells really take that much energy. I used more than this when I was 9, making sure that I got enough to eat.  _ She frowned as she thought, but smoothed the expression off her face as she neared the Great Hall.  _ I must just be hungry, I don’t need to be thinking about that.  _

When she got to the table, she was pleased to see that it was covered in platters of sandwiches, with biscuits and fruit available.  She grabbed a couple, wrapped them up in her napkin, along with an apple, and took herself outside. As she had no classes for the rest of the day, it seemed like the perfect moment for a picnic.  The rest of the first years were all sitting together and discussing their first day of classes, and didn’t even notice her heading out of the castle.

There were groups of children dotted around the lake, and others walking near a sports stadium looking place, but no one was near the dark forest, so Heather drifted that way.  Just outside the forest, she found a nice collection of large rocks, and seated herself behind one, where she couldn’t be seen by a casual observer. She pulled her lunch out, and watched the forest while she ate.  It was very quiet right after she sat down, but the normal forest noises started again quickly. She could hear chittering from squirrels, rustling in the underbrush, and birds calling to each other. The smell of loam and trees was heavy in the air.  A peace surrounded her as she relaxed again.  _ It’s so strange being around all these children all day.  I haven’t gone to school with other kids since I was 9. I have to last 7 whole years of this!  Maybe it will get easier if I keep doing it.  _

She finished her quick meal, and rested her head on the stone behind her, eyes closing as she began meditating.  She didn’t want to risk speaking with Marvolo in an open area, so she just connected with the feeling of her magic, and allowed it to drift into the forest, tasting the special feeling of a magical forest.  There were many different auras even just right near the edge where she was sitting. She could feel something strong in both directions away from her, but it was too far to do more than recognize that something else was out there. 

Closer to her body, she felt a cool weight slip into her lap.  It was scaled and cool to the touch. She opened her eyes, looking down at a thin snake with large eyes and an egg shaped head. The scales were brilliant green, edged in dark blue, and the eyes looked enormous on the small head.  The snake hissed quietly to himself, ~Stupid two legger sitting in my spot, I’ll show her, I’ll bite and I’ll--~ 

Heather quickly interrupted the muttering, not liking the direction he was going. ~Excuse me, snake, I didn’t mean to take your spot. Do you want me to go somewhere else?~

He froze at her use of Parseltongue, and turned his head to make eye contact, tasting the air in between them. ~A speaker?!  The old ones told us of one that used to live in the stone nest, but it’s been generations. What are you called?~

Heather’s eyes got huge, listening to his far more polished speech. ~You’re a very smart snake, aren’t you? I’m Heather.  I had a snake friend at home, but Breeze through the grass isn’t a travelling snake, so he stayed at my old nest. What’s your name?~

He hissed happily, winding his way up her torso to curl around her neck. ~I’m called Death Comes Quickly.  Do you live in the stone nest full of two legged hatchlings?~

She smiled at him brightly, and offered her finger to pet him gently. ~Yes.  It’s a school where we learn two legger magic. Would you like to come inside and see it? You could stay in my room when you can’t be with me.  Winter is going to be here soon, and it’s warm inside. There’s plenty of food too.~

He thought it over, slithering around her neck, poking his head in her shirt, and sliding down her arm to come out her sleeve, then curling back into her lap before he looked up at her. ~Yes. I will come to the human nest and be your new snake friend.  You look like a hatchling that needs lots of training. Did Breeze through the grass teach you to hunt?~

She laughed, lifting him up to slip him into a pocket inside her robes. ~Yes, he did.  Can you stay out of sight? The other hatchlings would be scared of such a fierce hunter as Death Comes Quickly.  You look venomous.~ He nodded approvingly, settling into the warm pocket she gave him. He was less than a meter long, and very thin, so he fit nicely. ~Thank you! I’ll show you my nest, then the rest of the stone nest.~  _ There’s no way I can introduce him as Death Comes Quickly, the professors would  _ **_freak._ ** _ I’ll come up with something else that means about the same thing before I show him to Professor Snape.  Oh man, I hope they let me keep him! Wait. They said the rule was “Don’t Get Caught.”  _ Heather’s eyes lit up and a manic grin covered her face.  She quickly schooled her expression as she slipped back around the rocks and headed towards her dorm room to settle her new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, silly me, I thought that the first week could be handled in no time! That was incorrect. This is the first day, and it's 3800 words, roughly. Sunday or thereabouts, you'll get at least the second day of classes. Hopefully by the time that they get past their first potion lesson, I can speed time up considerably. I have so many plotty things, I can't skip time yet! 
> 
> Again, thank you, thank you, thank you for all the comments and kudos!
> 
> ETA: Heather will figure out what kind of snake she's befriended soon, but it's a male boomslang: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boomslang
> 
> He looks very much like the picture above "Conservation" off to the right on my screen. Brilliant green with dark blue edging the scales.


	12. Second day of classes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just the second day! It was very busy. Heather made more friends, and went to History of Magic and Defense.

CHAPTER 12

The next day, Heather was excited for The History of Magic class, as she had read most of the first year text book, and it had a bunch of events in it that she had heard about from the muggle side, but didn’t realize had magical origins. Even better, there were wars she had never heard of that sounded very bloody and interesting.  This was also the only class that Slytherin shared with Hufflepuff. She sat down on the front row, left side like she preferred and got ready for class, ignoring the muttering from the others behind her. Daphne looked around the room as she walked in, and sat down directly behind Heather. Draco took the seat next to Daphne, and Tracey sat next to Heather.  She exchanged a smile with the brown haired girl, as she pulled out her pen and notebook, getting ready to take notes. 

Tracey leaned over and whispered, “I heard this class is taught by a ghost, isn’t that wicked?” 

Heather cocked her head to the side and looked confused. “How would that even work? Can he mark papers?” She contemplated how an incorporeal being could possible teach a class and grade papers for the rest of the time before the professor floated in through the door. He looked like an old man, dressed in robes that were probably dark before he turned into a silvery washed out version of himself. 

Professor Binns introduced himself, and his eyes swept automatically across the classroom.  They stopped suddenly, focused on a young girl sitting on the front left of the room, with brilliant green eyes.  He finished his sweep of the room, floated off to the right of the classroom, and began his lecture about the Goblin Wars, in the most boring monotone that Heather had ever heard.  He didn’t stray from his spot, as far away from Heather as possible, while still staying in front of the class.

For the first few minutes she tried to take notes, but before long, she was yawning.  She glanced around the room, noticing that several her fellow Slytherins had laid their heads down on their desks to take a nap, and the only Hufflepuffs still taking notes instead of chatting with their new friends were seated on the front row.  Tracey nestled her chin in her hand, elbow resting on the desk, and slept sitting up next to her. Heather closed her eyes, and tried to reach out to Marvolo, deep in her mindscape. 

“Marvolo! How does a ghost grade papers? How can he be a teacher?? I thought only poltergeists could interact with physical objects.” Heather bounced in place on the rug in front of the fireplace in her mind. 

“Hello, Heather, it’s lovely to see you too,” he drawled drily.  His chestnut hair was still pulled back in a low ponytail, but his robes were different today, more old fashioned than before, grey with accents of green.

“OH! I’m sorry, Marvolo.” She smiled prettily at him, allowing a little blush to color her cheeks.  He admired the excellent use of little girl mannerisms to deflect potential upset and embarrassment.  “I’m in History class right now, and everyone is sleeping, and you would not believe how boring this ghost is. And I’m in the front row, but he’s all the way on the far side of the room and won’t move. I can barely hear him! I don’t see why we’re starting off learning about Goblin Wars anyway.  And do you know what the Goblins think of our side of this story? I wonder if I could---” 

He raises a hand to stop the flow of words. “I can see that you’re very excited today, Heather.  Don’t you think that you’re getting the whole story of the war from your teachers and school books? I mean, if it were important, surely they would tell you.” He raises an eyebrow, watching her reactions closely.

“Well, I don’t think that’s true.  I read all about all the wars that Great Britain was involved in back when we were still an empire, and my teacher had us do a little research on India, and what the Indian people said about the uprisings and what my books said was totally different. I bet that it’s the same here.  Only the ones who win get to write the history books, and I don’t see how that gives you the truth. You can’t reach the truth if half the people there aren’t able to tell you what happened.” She sat down halfway through her speech, her frenetic energy calming. “I don’t know why I’m so worked up today, it’s kind of weird.”

He smiles at her and nods. “Are you able to open your eyes in the real world and still speak to me yet?”

She frowns contemplatively. “I’ll try when I’m ready to go.  Did you know I got a new snake friend? His name is Death Comes Quickly, but I think that would scare everyone, so I’m calling him Thanatos. I was reading about snakes yesterday evening in the library, and I think he’s a boomslang.  They’re super deadly!” She smiles brightly at him, her eyes sparkling. Unlike her earlier smile, this one seems genuine. 

“I’m not certain that naming him after a god of death will reassure anyone, but with your private room you ought to be able to keep him hidden.  There are secret passages just for snakes in the castle. I’ll teach you spells to change his color and size temporarily, if you’d like. That way he can blend in better.” Marvolo gracefully sits in the chair opposite hers, setting the book he had recently selected down next to him. “You had best be getting back to class, you don’t want to be left behind and sit through another lesson.”

Heather rolls her eyes in agreement, and tries to hold on to her mindscape while opening her eyes in the real world.  She managed to whisper in her mind, “Can you see what I am?” to Marvolo, but didn’t get an answer. Apparently she hadn’t missed much, the classroom was caught in a soporific haze, three quarters of the students asleep, and no one taking notes. Even the dust in the air seemed to dance lazily.  The teacher remained floating far away from Heather. 

The students scattered as soon as they broke free of the classroom, as the Slytherins had a free period until lunch.  Heather headed back to the common room, intent on looking over her Defense text before lunch. She got so involved in the reading that she only noticed the time when an older boy “accidentally” bumped her as he walked past. She quickly gathered her things, keeping a pleasant look on her face to hide her annoyance at his behavior.  She headed off to lunch, following in the older students’ wake. She hadn’t been cornered by any of the kids in other houses yet, but she had heard the rumors about the first year two years ago; they said he was stuck in the hospital wing for two whole weeks! She grabbed a spot next to Tracey and across from Millicent, with the first year boys separating her group and Daphne’s group.  They studiously avoided looking at each other as they all ate. Draco and Blaise were discussing the Solstice party they had all attended in June. Heather pretended that she couldn’t hear them while they went on and on about who had worn what and who was flirting with who, until she heard Blaise say, “Well, what can you expect with  _ her _ parentage? It’s not like her mother can get her a good match...” His drawl was derisive, and his expression snide.  Heather looked at him curiously, confused as to why anyone would bring up her mother when she realized. He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at Tracey.  The brown haired girl rolled her eyes dismissively, and stubbornly kept eating her food, using manners better than most of the children at their end of the table.  The black haired girl looked over at Millicent, hoping for a bit of an explanation, then returned her focus to her food. 

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few more minutes before Tracey finally whispered, “My father. He was a muggle.  Everyone else already knows, I’m the embarrassment of the Yaxley family, first halfblood ever.”

Heather nodded and whispered, “Oh.  I was raised by horrid muggles, as I think you know now. Probably made my blood just that much dirtier.” She quirked a smile, obviously sarcastic.  Tracey was startled into a snort-laugh, and smiled at Heather.

“Oh, well, then. Might as well be allies.  You met Millicent, right? She’s over here with us outcast girls because her father found himself a muggleborn instead of a pureblood, and then couldn’t be bothered to remarry once she was born, leaving her the heir.”  Tracey’s shoulders had relaxed, and her attitude was far friendlier.

Millicent raised her eyebrows, her broad shoulders and round face placid.  “Are we telling tales in the dining hall now? I might have a few to tell...” Her voice was gentle, but the gleam in her eyes was wicked.

Heather brightened even more, but made sure to keep her posture relaxed, and tossed off, “Well, if you two would like to stop by my room this evening, maybe we could tell a couple stories, get to know each other a little better...” Tracey and Millicent exchanged a look, then nodded.

“But only if you call me Tracey.” 

“Call me Millie.  Millicent is too long for every day.” 

“My only nicknames are terrible, seriously, who gives a nickname that’s longer than your real one? Heather’s fine.” She continued muttering under her breath, “Girl-who-lived, who needs two stupid hyphens in a nickname! Ridiculous wizards.” A small friendship began to bloom at the lunch table, and the three girls discussed the classes and their thoughts on the castle up to this point, making sure to avoid any sensitive topics.

After lunch, Heather was looking forward to her first defense class with Quirrell. She chatted quietly with her new friends, continuing a conversation from lunch, as they gathered in front of the classroom.  A large mob of Gryffindor first years joined them, right as the door opened for the start of class. Heather sat down and smiled hopefully at Quirrell. He frowned at her a little, his eyebrows knitting in thought, before looking around at the rest of the students.  His stutter was far worse than Heather remembered, and it took a good twenty minutes to get through the roll call. That set the mood for the rest of the class. Good information might have been taught, but due to the delivery, no one could focus. Unlike the quiet napping atmosphere of the previous class, everyone was fidgeting and writing notes to other students during this class.  

Heather frowned, very disappointed.   _ He’s not anything like he was before.  Maybe he’s just nervous?  _ She glanced around, checking to see who was sitting near her.  The annoying girl from the train was at the far right of the front row, glaring periodically at her, and Weasley was in the back on the same side.  When she caught him staring, his face turned bright red, and he snapped his eyes back to the teacher. Heather just shook her head, and carefully sent out just one tendril of her magic, trying to get a feel for Quirrell’s emotions.  As the bright gold strand reached the outskirts of his aura, she frowned. She couldn’t feel anything from him. She quickly fell into her meditative state, and looked at his magic. Her eyes opened, and she could see nothing but blinding white.  She groaned, clapping her hands over her eyes to cover them, and a migraine ripped through her. It was the worst headache she had ever had, even when she was just learning how to use her magic. Her shoulders sagged, and she collapsed forward, catching herself at the last minute with her head in her hands and elbows on the desk.

Tracey looked over at her, eyes huge, then raised her hand. “Professor? I need to take Heather to the infirmary, she’s not feeling well.” 

“G-g-g-g-o, Mi-mi-miss Davis,” he stuttered, waving them towards the door.  Tracey grabbed both bags, helped Heather up, and dragged her out of the room.

As they walked down the corridor towards the nurse, Tracey whispered to Heather.  “Are you alright? You looked like you were about to lose your lunch.” 

Heather worked to get her magic back under control, trusting Tracey to guide her around obstacles. “Headache. Dunno what brought it on.  Get them sometimes.” She wrestled the minimalist sentences out. Finally, she was entrusted into the white walls of the infirmary, and checked over by the Matron.  Tracey was quickly shooed off, and told to go inform their Head of House.

“You seem like you’ll be fine with a couple hours rest.  Take this pain reliever, and lay back. I’ll keep the lights dim for you.” Madam Pomfrey flicked the curtains closed with a quick gesture of her wand, and dimmed the lights at the same time.  She handed over a grey brown potion in a small glass bottle. “Call me if you need anything, dear.” She smiled at the dark haired girl again, before bustling off to her office. 

Heather laid back in the firm bed, one that looked straight out of a World War 2 medical drama, and closed her eyes, feeling the potion already starting to ease the pain.  Before her eyes even closed properly, she felt Marvolo yank her into her mindscape.

“OW!  What’d you do that for!?” She yelped, falling onto the ground at his feet.  She glared up at him, hair falling in her face, her eyes flashing even brighter than normal.  Marvolo stood looking down at her, with his arms crossed censoriously across his chest.

“And how exactly did you manage to get attacked in your very first Defense class?” He questioned her, one eyebrow lifting.  

“I didn’t do anything!  I mean, Quirrell was acting weird, so I just sent out a little bit of magic to taste his aura, but it wasn’t there! So ... I tried to get a peek at the magic around him, see what was wrong.  Everything went bright white, and next thing I know I’ve collapsed in front of everyone! I didn’t do anything!” She was defensive as she scrambled back up onto her feet and put a little more room between them.

“Really? That’s what you call not doing anything? Think it through, reckless child.” He frowned more deeply at her, displeasure clear. 

“Um.  Well.” She turned away from him, thinking. “Oh wait... This is the first time I’ve tried to look at magic at Hogwarts...  Is there really so much that it could blind me? But that doesn’t make sense! Everyone can’t go around blind every time they try and get a peek!  I wasn’t even looking all that hard!” 

Marvolo’s mouth gaped open in disbelief then snapped shut.  “Girl, do you have any idea how rare it is to be able to see people’s magic? Even if you can’t do it all the time yet, I’ve only met a handful of witches or wizards who could do it at all without a special ritual or device to aid them.  Yes, the magic here is that strong. Now, you’d better come up with a story on why you collapsed that doesn’t draw Dumbledore’s attention.”

“You think that Dumbledore is going to care? He hasn’t paid a single bit of attention to me yet, why would he start now?  I bet as soon as I got sorted into Slytherin, he just decided to write me off as useless.” She glared mutinously at him, still not sure why he was so put out with her and wanting to pick a fight.

He laughed, coldly.  “That man has never given up on a pawn this early in a game.  You want to bet? Alright then. How about this. If I’m right, and that senile old coot comes to find out what’s wrong with his precious Savior, you’ll owe me a favor, to be completed with no questions asked.  If you’re right... What would you want?” He smirked at her, his former agitation calming.

“Uh..” Heather hesitated, fairly certain that she was going to lose this bet. “If I win, then you have to answer five of my questions, without any dodging or lies.” She jutted out her chin, stubbornly.  Marvolo’s smirk only grew, and he nodded sharply. “Why are you so mad at me anyways? I mean, what does it matter to you if I get a migraine?” She looked him over suspiciously. “You’ve never pulled me in here before, I didn’t even know you could.” 

He rubbed his temples, gracefully collapsing into his chair. “I have no idea what you mean, foolish child. Now, go on, figure out what you’re going to tell him, then get out of here.  You need some proper sleep.” 

Heather nodded, and curled up in front of the fire for a few minutes before opening her eyes in the hospital wing.   _ I bet his head hurts when mine does. I mean, he lives in my brain.  _ She smirked, considering the possibilities.   _ At least I have some way of aggravating him if he gets too pushy.  Now I just have to figure out what to do next. If seeing magic is rare, there’s no way I can let anyone know about it until I’m ready.   _

She had just dozed off, the pain potion making her sleepier than usual, when the door snapping shut woke her.  She lay still, keeping her eyes closed, hoping that she could figure out who was here before she admitted that she was awake.  The curtain around her bed stayed shut, but she could hear Madam Pomfrey talking first, and then.. The smooth baritone of her potions professor.  Her shoulders relaxed, and she opened her eyes, sitting up in bed.  _ Not Dumbledore!  I was right!  _ The curtain was pushed aside, and Snape stalked in, looking her over carefully.  She opened her mouth to greet him, but he gestured her to silence quickly. He reached her bedside, when she heard another voice, one she had only heard in passing.  The lavender robes with sherbert sheep caught her attention before the long grey beard tucked in to the belt.  _ Freaking A. So unfair!! _  She kept her expression woeful and downcast, hiding the mental cursing she was doing.  Heather hated losing more than just about anything, and she had known better than to take that bet. 

“Well, hello there Heather.  How are you doing, my dear girl?” The blue eyes of her headmaster twinkled merrily over his half moon glasses, and she took care not to make eye contact for long, looking as shy and nervous as she could stand.

“Headmaster! I didn’t expect you to come here, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to--” She spoke quickly, sounding very worried.

“Are you apologizing for ending up in the hospital wing? Ridiculous girl.” Severus cuts her off, his drawl sounding even more bored than normal.  He quirks a slight smirk at her, as Albus is standing a bit in front of him and can’t see his face. 

“Severus, there is no need for that.  I just wanted to check in on you, it’s not common that someone ends up in the hospital wing on the second day of classes!  I knew your parents, of course, and they would have wanted me to keep an eye on you.” His grandfatherly tone grated on Heather.  

_ You should have been looking out for me while I was growing up! Now you’re worried? Whatever, old man.  _ “Oh! You knew my parents? Do you .. do you think you could tell me about them? Aunt Petunia ... Well. She didn’t like telling stories about the past.” Heather hedged carefully, glancing up at the headmaster periodically to see how he was taking the story she was creating on the spot. 

“Of course, my dear girl! I’ll send you a note, and you can come to my office next month.  Now, what exactly happened in your Defense class?” He regarded her carefully over his glasses, watching her twist her hands together in her lap nervously.  

Heather’s shoulders slumped and she stared fixedly at her lap.  She stopped twisting her hands together and picked at a loose thread on the blanket.  “I get migraines sometimes. Especially around... that time of the month.” She shot a glance at the teachers, to see if they were buying this. She hadn’t actually started having a period yet, but most males would shy away from any mention of the topic.  

Dumbledore’s eyes got big, and he nodded quickly.  “Oh yes! Of course. I’m sure Madam Pomfrey can help you with your delicate condition.” He quickly made his goodbyes and left, not sticking around to ask anymore questions.  

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow, and stepped closer to the bed.  “I hope that your... migraines... do not trouble you in my class. It can be very dangerous to lose focus.  When you are released, come see me in my office, your evaluation just got moved up. I won’t have you blowing up the lab, due to some minor complaint.” He smirked at her annoyance, and spun on his heel to leave. 

Heather frowned at his back, wondering about the change in his attitude since she last saw him at the Malfoys, when she noticed the nurse walking in with a tray. “Now, my dear, please eat this, and you can go.  They’re about to serve dinner in the Great Hall, and I don’t think you’re ready for that excitement. You can go after you eat and rest for a bit.” Heather smiled at the lady, and settled herself to eat her food. 

oOo

After dinner, Heather knocked on Professor Snape’s door, rather than going back to her dorm.  She quickly entered at his call, and shut it behind her. “You wanted to see me, sir?” She smiled at him, sweetly.

He shook his head, rolling his eyes at her tone. “Yes, I did. I will now cast a few spells on you, determine your physical health, and see if there are any potions you need.  Sit.” He gestured to a brown leather chair in front of his desk. Heather looked around with interest as she settled into the chair. The room wasn’t very big, and was attached to the potions lab.  Off to one side, there was a private brewing station. There were no windows, but magical lights provided plenty of illumination. The desk was large, wooden, and covered in stacks of parchment. There were several bookshelves full of potions books, as well as a full set of the course books. She returned her attention to the professor as he quickly waved his wand, silently casting. “Those are privacy wards.  I wouldn’t want to risk any information getting out to the school at large without both of our consent.” Heather brightened, her shoulders relaxing.

“Oh! Is that why you didn’t want to talk in the hospital wing? Does Dumbledore know that you scan every Slytherin?” He smirked at her, pleased with the line of questions.

“Very good.  He does not know, and I see no reason to inform him. This is a matter of student health, which is up to the Head of House to maintain.”  He turned his dark wand on her, and began quietly casting.

Heather froze, hating the feeling of being at the end of someone’s wand. She gripped her wand tightly, but didn’t draw it from her robe pocket.  Bright blue lights appeared over her head, full of symbols she didn’t recognize. Severus frowned as he examined them, walking to the side of her to get a better look at a few.  He hummed in thought, then nodded. “It seems you’re in need of nutrition potions, for at least the next year. Perhaps longer, dependant on you. If you can keep up a strict regime of exercise and healthy eating habits, it might be less.” Severus frowned at her consideringly.  _ She’s taken reasonable portions at the meals I’ve watched, I doubt she’s suffering from anorexia... But bulimia?  _ He waved his wand for another check, then sighed, shaking his head.  _ No, no history of vomiting. I’m going to have to watch her carefully, still.  _

Heather’s eyes grew wide, and she nodded awkwardly. “Oh, you can tell that from the spell?  Do you think I could learn that one some day?” She tried to divert the conversation to something more comfortable.  

Severus just gave her a look of disapproval and continued. “Yes, I can.  You have a few scars, from childhood injuries. I can provide a cream to help reduce that.  It likely won’t do anything for the one on your forehead, though. How have your first two days been? Are you settling in alright?”  

She brightened again, and nodded. “Oh yes! Tracey and Millie are really nice, and Draco’s talking to me again.  I think he was happy that I had to ask him for help.” Severus nodded, quirking a smile at her solution to the Draco problem that Narcissa had blathered on about for hours.  

“Run along then.  I daresay your ...friends... have been missing you.  Be careful with whatever game you’re playing with the headmaster, he’s been doing this far longer than you can imagine.” Heather nodded soberly, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Yes, sir.  Thanks for your help!” 

Severus collapsed into his favorite brown leather chair by the fireplace.  “That girl.. She’s going to cause so much trouble. Lily... You had better be laughing, seeing me deal with this!” He grumbled a bit more, before pulling out a piece of parchment, to send a letter to Lucius about what the health scan had shown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the schedule I've come up with for the week! I didn't look too hard at what other people have been using, I just kinda did my own thing. I couldn't remember who they shared all the classes with, either, so ... It's an AU if it's really really awful, lol
> 
> Mon Charms w/Gryffindors Transfig w/Ravenclaws  
> Tues History of Mag w/Hufflepuff, Defense w/Gryffindor  
> Wed Herbology w/Gryffindor Astronomy w/Gryffindor  
> Thurs Defense, Transfig, Charms  
> Fri Double Potions w/Gryffindor


	13. Potions Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather has her first potions class, and it is exciting. Professor Snape couldn't have it any other way.

Chapter 13

 

The next few days passed similarly to the first two, only she avoided passing out in defense again.  Marvolo was insufferable about winning the bet, but much more pleasant overall. Finally, the day that Heather had been looking forward to had come.  It was Friday, and her only class was double potions. So far, she had kept up with all of her work, and been able to spend a good amount of time chatting with her new two legged friends as well as her snake friend.  Most of the older Slytherins still ignored her, other than the occasional glare. 

Before breakfast, Heather looked over at the notice board, and was startled to see two new papers.  Tracey looked over her shoulder and hummed contemplatively. “Huh, mandatory study groups for every year? My cousin in Ravenclaw never mentioned anything like that.” 

Draco had just wandered over as well and sniffed. “Of course the Ravenclaws don’t have a first year study group.  They are expected to form their own for each subject. Older students get extra privileges for leading groups for first years.  Professor Snape doesn’t like bothering with all that, but doesn’t want any of us to fail like some stupid Griffindork, so.. Oh hey! Look at this, a Defense and Dueling club!  And first years can join, that’s new. Looks like the first meeting is Saturday right after breakfast. Ugh... Getting up that early on a weekend? This school is just full of monsters...” He grumbled and walked towards the exit, heading for breakfast.  

Heather shook her head and laughed. “Ten am isn’t early, cousin!” She trotted after him nudging him in the ribs. “Are you going to join, then?  I think it sounds pretty interesting.” 

He laughed, pushing her hand off of him. “Of course I’ll join.  Most clubs restrict membership to third years and above, unless they’re just for first and second years.  I wonder who’s in charge? Maybe Professor Flitwick, he’s a dueling champion, you know.” Rather than smug, his upper class drawl sounded contemplative.

Heather nodded appreciatively as the group of first years walked to the hall.  She was flanked by Tracey and Millicent, and Draco by Crabbe and Goyle. Theo Nott and Blaise were trailing behind, deep in conversation.  Daphne and Pansy were walking with the boys, pretending not to notice the easy camaraderie ahead of them. Heather sat down at the end of the table, with the rest of the first years between her and their older classmates.  She helped herself to a healthy sized breakfast under her professor’s watchful gaze. The moment she poured herself some tea, a potion popped into existence right next to her plate. She sighed, but drank it quickly, after confirming that it was sealed and labeled appropriately.  She grimaced in disgust, and took a bite of eggs to get the taste out of her mouth. Experience had taught her that tea wouldn’t do the trick. 

Owls flooded the Great Hall shortly before she was done eating, dropping in front of their target students.  Hedwig flew down, landing right in front of Heather, offering a creamy parchment envelope. Heather took it quickly, and offered her owl a sausage.  Hedwig snatched it out of her fingers and gulped it down, then preened her hair briefly, and flew back to the owlery. Heather examined the letter, and smiled.  It was from Narcissa Malfoy, and probably her response to the Sorting. She’d have to read it after Potions so she tucked it into her bag.

As soon as breakfast was eaten, the group of first years hurried back to the dungeons, eager for the first class from their intimidating Head of House.  Draco boasted about how his godfather wouldn’t favor the Gryffindors like all the rest of the teachers did, and that they’d finally get what was coming. Blaise rolled his eyes at his friend, nudging him to make him be quieter.  Before long, the red and gold students joined them, all leaning against the opposite wall of the hallway. 

Heather glanced across no-man’s-land in the center of the hall, and narrowed her eyes when she saw how many of the other students were blatantly staring at her.  She turned her head to Tracey, and spoke quietly, but easily loud enough to be heard across the way. “I didn’t realize that manners were so different here. Back at home, staring at someone is considered rude.”  She cast a disdainful glance at Weasley and Granger, then flicked her eyes back to Tracey.

The brown haired girl smirked. “Not that different, really, just some people have no class.” The door at the end of the hallway snapped open, and Professor Snape appeared. He glared indiscriminately at the students, then turned on his heel without a word and stalked back into the classroom. 

Heather grinned, delightedly, but quickly schooled her face.  _ He is SO dramatic! I wonder if he has to special order robes to billow like that, or if it’s a spell.  This is going to be epic. Marvolo is super dramatic too, maybe it’s a wizard thing. Narcissa isn’t like this.  She’s reasonable.  _ She took a seat, again in the front row to the left of the class, and ignored the jostling behind her as the other first years figured out who was going to be her partner.  She reached into her bag, pulling out another new journal and her favorite pen, along with her potions kit, and watched her teacher intently. He glanced at her, then shot a quelling look at the other Slytherins, before turning to focus on the far rowdier Gryffindors.  They had finally gotten over their reticence, and piled into the classroom in a noisy mass. As with the other shared classes, Hermione Granger claimed the opposite side of the front row, and Weasley picked a spot in the back. Finally, Draco glared hard enough, and the other two halfblood girls settled in to the row right behind Heather, so he could partner with her.  Theo and Blaise sat next to Draco, filling out the rest of the front row. As the door slammed shut, without a gesture or word from the dark professor at the front of the class, a very reluctant Neville Longbottom sunk down in the seat next to Hermione. It was hard to tell who looked more put out by this arrangement. 

After an entrancing speech that Heather wrote down word for word, Professor Snape took roll.  He sneered when he read Ron Weasley’s name, and quickly finished with Blaise. He glanced around the classroom, meeting different students eyes, and before long all of the Gryffindors were squirming with nerves. Finally, he snapped, “Mr. Weasley!  What would you get if you combined powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood?” Ron sat there, his mouth gaping open unattractively as the whole class stared at him. Hermione thrust her hand into the air, waving it around excitedly. Draco glanced over at Heather and smirked, shaking his head.  “No answer?” He sniffed disdainfully. “Mr. Longbottom! Where would I look if I wished to find a bezoar?” He glared at the nervous boy directly in front of him, waiting for an answer. Neville started shaking, and fumbled with his quill, somehow managing to knock his potions kit to the ground, spilling half the ingredients. He quickly ducked under the table, grabbing his things back together.  Hermione was bouncing in her chair at this point waving her hand desperately, ignoring her partner’s struggle. Heather wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

Under her breath, she murmured to Draco, “That girl is rude rude rude.” The professor swivelled, and locked eyes with Heather next. She quickly glanced over his shoulder, not liking direct eye contact with adults anymore.  She blushed a little, embarrassed at being caught whispering in class, even if it did take hearing like a bat to catch her.

“Miss Potter.  Perhaps you can enlighten us... What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, as if inviting her to share the joke. Hermione was now standing, jumping in place with her hand up.

Heather looked down at her desk, then back towards her professor. “Of course, sir.  Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, also known as aconite.”  _ That question was from the beginning of 1001 magical herbs and fungi!  And the other two? They were in the introductory chapter, why didn’t Ron know that? Neville was just scared.  Snape is pretty intimidating when he wants to be.  _ She grinned internally.  It had been many years since she had let herself be scared by someone whose actions were kind, even if their words weren’t.  

He nodded at her, and turned to Draco. “And Mr. Malfoy? Perhaps you can answer my other questions? It seems at least  _ some _ of the students have bothered to open a book before attending my class.” He glared at the Gryffindors.  

Draco smirked, and drawled lazily, “Powdered asphodel and an infusion of wormwood make the Draught of the Living Death, an incredibly powerful sleeping potion.  You can find a bezoar in the stomach of a goat.” 

“Excellent. Fifteen points to Slytherin. Today we will begin by going over safety rules, then you will brew a potion to cure boils.”  Hermione slumped in her seat, defeated. She couldn’t figure out why people kept glaring at her and why the professor wouldn’t call on her, when she obviously knew the answer.

After the lecture, Snape tapped the board, and the instructions appeared.  He dismissed the class to go fetch the ingredients stocked in the cupboard.  Rather than rushing over with the rest of the students, Heather remained in her seat, carefully copying down the ingredients and all the instructions.  She read over it twice before turning to Draco. “It looks pretty straightforward. Have you done a lot of brewing?” She kept an eye on the other students, but they were still pushing back and forth to try and be first to get what they needed.

Draco smirked at her. “Of course I have! I brewed this one when I was eight.” He sniffed disdainfully. “I suppose you need more of my help?” His nose tipped up a little more, looking at her arrogantly.

Heather laughed, “Well, I haven’t done much brewing. Ok, I haven’t done any, I didn’t want to try that on my own! How about I do most of this, and you just tell me if I’m about to blow us up?” 

Draco scowled at her. “I won’t have you mess up my grade, Potter. If you do one thing wrong, I’m starting it over and you can just sit there.” He looked over at the crowd, which was now leaving the cupboard. “Go fetch our ingredients. I’ll get this started.” Together, they prepped the ingredients, Heather making sure to keep her cuts even and follow the recipe precisely.  Draco murmured to her. “You’re doing alright, I suppose. Add one more drop of that, it will improve the color.” 

She quirked a smile at him, and did as instructed.  They were the first to finish their potion, unbothered by the swooping potions master.  He nodded at their effort, and gestured for them to leave the sample on his desk. Heather started cleaning and glanced around the room.  Hermione was bedraggled, and looked frustrated. Her hair was even bushier than normal, and her eyes were intent. She snapped at Neville, harshly, “NO! Don’t add those yet!” She grabbed his hand and shoved it backwards, quickly turning off the flame. “Now add the porcupine quills! QUICK!!” Neville’s hands were shaking, and his eyes were suspiciously watery.  

The dark haired professor swooped over to their table in a billow of black robes. “Assaulting a student? Tsk tsk, that’s not appropriate behavior at this school, Miss Granger. You would do well to remember that the standards here... are not what you’re used to,” he drawled disdainfully. “Five points from Gryffindor.” Neville stared wide eyed at the potions master, then looked at Hermione.  Her eyes welled up with tears and she looked down at her desk, her hands curled into fists.

Draco leaned over and whispered to Heather. “If she hadn’t stopped Longbottom, the entire potion would have been ruined, and they both would have had boils.” Heather’s eyes widened, and she frowned.  Her brow knit in thought.  _ He took points off for saving their potion? That’s... wow.  I mean, I heard that he favored us, but.. They both look like they might cry.  Maybe... I don’t like her much, but she might be a little useful... And poor Neville definitely needs tutoring.  None of the Gryffindors are friends with either of them, that’s definitely an opportunity. I’ll have to think about it over the weekend...  If I want to get them on my side.. It would be nice to have a couple of Gryffs indebted to me... _ Draco frowned, looking at the serious thinking she was doing, then shook his head and turned to Theo and Blaise to keep talking.

“Alright students, if you have a potion that seems close. Bring it to my desk with both your names on it. If not, you will give me a five inch essay on exactly where you went wrong.  Everyone needs to have an essay for next week, twelve inches on aconite. You have five minutes to wrap up.” Almost like a period to his instructions, the whole room shook as Ron and Seamus’s cauldron in the back of the room exploded. Flames gushed out of the top, and licked against the ceiling, both boys were fortunately thrown backwards, but slammed into the wall.  The two Gryffindors in front of them quickly ducked under their table, and the room filled with screams of terror and pain. Professor Snape frowned severely, and pulled his wand for the first time. He quickly cast a shield around the cauldron, and snuffed the flames. Stalking over to the two boys, whining piteously against the wall, he spoke intensely, but quietly, “And just HOW did you manage to blow up an almost completely inert potion, Misters Weasley and Finnegan?  What exactly did you do?” Heather could hear the worry in his voice, but glancing around, she could tell that no one else could.

Ron shook his head, then grimaced and clutched the back of his head.  He pulled his hand forward, and saw blood. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fainted.  Seamus was covered in soot and just shook his head, unable to speak. “Fine. Everyone, out of the classroom, I’m taking these two to Madame Pomfrey.” 

Heather picked herself back up off the ground, from where she had crouched to avoid any stray shrapnel, and looked at the Slytherins. “Is that normal for Potions?” 

Theo piped up, “No, not normally for first years.  I mean, yeah, for NEWT students, but the things we brew are pretty safe.” Draco nodded in agreement.

“I wonder how they even did that.  Maybe if they...” He turned to his book and a piece of parchment and started scribbling, crossing out methods and ingredients to try and figure out what happened.  Slowly, the rest of the students got their things together and sauntered to their dorms to freshen up before lunch. Rumors of what happened in the first year class had reached the table before any of the students in the class had.

oOo

After lunch, the first year Slytherins gathered in a room off the common room for their first study group.  There was a whole hallway Heather had missed before, filled with just seven rooms, one for each year, for studying.  There was a large table, wooden chairs with cushions, plenty of scrap parchment, and a nice selection of some supplemental texts on a shelf next to the window looking into the lake.  The room was better lit than the common room, and plenty big enough for everyone. “Oh, this is nice!” Heather exclaimed, walking around to check it out. 

Daphne shut the door behind her, and smiled. “It is. And there are silencing charms, so we won’t bother any of the upper years.” Everyone settled down to study and complete their first week’s homework.  As she sat there, Heather remembered her confusion about how her magic affected different people.  _ This is a great time to test it! I’m far from the door, so if they hate it, they can leave and I’ll know who’s affected how.   _ She pulled her warded journal out of her bag, and opened it to the page she marked earlier.  _ Now... Lets see how this goes. _  She closed her eyes, only hesitating momentarily when she remembered she hadn’t spoken to Marvolo about this plan, before going on anyway.  She relaxed her tight grip on her magic, and let it slowly spool out of her, running through the room gently along the air currents. She could feel the pleasant sun warmed stone of Hogwarts’ magic against her own, and the glows of her classmates even closer to her.  Slowly, slowly, her magic embraced her classmates, and she opened her eyes, watching them, ready to make notes of their reactions.

Draco slouched back in his chair, his eyes closing.  He smiled, a pure, sweet smile, completely unlike his normal smirk.  He sighed happily. The other boys relaxed similarly, smiling to themselves. Only Blaise glanced around the room, a little confused.  Tracey and Millie leaned closer to the source of the magic. Pansy and Daphne sighed, but didn’t slouch. They glanced around like Blaise, and couldn’t resist a small smile.   _ Interesting! They all seem to like the feeling.  I can see in their auras, they’re more relaxed than I’ve ever seen.  I didn’t know that Daphne was so nervous all the time, but her aura is completely different now!   _ Her magic continued to swirl around the room, and the children returned to work.  There was a quiet buzz between them all, and no cutting remarks for a stupid question.  Crabbe and Goyle seemed more willing to offer ideas now than before. 

Blaise looked around at all of them, then back to Heather. “That’s your magic we can feel, isn’t it? I smell cut grass and citrus.” 

Heather startled, and started to pull her magic back. “Um. What do you mean?” She was nervous, hoping that she hadn’t ruined everything with her House.

“I haven’t felt magic that strong before, not even my madre.” Her magic slipped back into her core, and Blaise shivered. “You really didn’t have to take it away, I wasn’t mad...” 

“How did you notice? No one could ever tell it was me before.” She frowned at him, suspiciously.  Tracey pressed a reassuring hand to Heather’s back, and Draco patted her hand.

Blaise flushed, which was hard to see on his dark skin. “I forget that you didn’t grow up with the rest of us.  I’m magic sensitive. I can usually feel a spell before it’s even cast, and I can tell when someone’s using their magic to influence.  I’ve never seen anyone use it like yours, comfort. Most people just try and scare their rivals with power.” 

Heather nodded slowly. “So.. You’re not mad?  I was just trying to figure out why some people react so differently to my magic than others.” 

Daphne pipes up, using a disinterested tone. “There’s nothing to be mad about.  Your magic felt glorious, if you want to do that while we’re studying or wherever, I bet we’d get way more done and get better grades.  There’s no reason to limit our potential.” 

Pansy laughed, a little snidely.  “And you don’t want any mud--muggleborn doing better than you in a class.” 

As the two girls started arguing, which seemed to be a major hobby of theirs, Blaise leaned over to speak quietly to Heather.  “If you’re interested in learning about bloodline gifts, there are a bunch of books in the library. That’s what being sensitive is considered, a bloodline gift.  It runs in my mother’s line. Also in the Malfoy line, but Draco didn’t get it. The Blacks are known for being Metomorphs, which is way flashier. But mine is definitely good.”

Heather nodded slowly, considering.  She released her magic, hoping to get the quiet and studious atmosphere back, and almost immediately, everyone sighed and got back to work.  It had affected them all even fast this time. She smiled slowly.  _ Very convenient.  And I can use this to scare people? Hah, I have a few I can think of that need scaring already.  _ Her eyes sparkled and she grinned, a vicious bloodthirsty thing.  

That evening at dinner, the seating arrangement for the first years had changed.  No longer was Heather at the end of the table with Tracey and Millie. Instead, she was at the center of the first years, her back to the wall so she could see all the other tables.  Draco and Tracey had claimed the seats beside her, Blaise, Theo, and Millie across from them. When Severus saw the arrangement, he just raised an eyebrow. It was rare for a first year to make a power play this early and this successfully.  The second and third years were watching speculatively, obviously ignorant of what had happened. As per usual, the upper year Court was ignoring the underclassmen. Dumbledore saw the changes and frowned.

 

oOo

That evening, in his office, Dumbledore paced, and spoke to his familiar.  “How is she making friends already? I thought that they’d be cruel to her, I mean she did destroy their precious Tom, how is she winning them over? She was supposed to get bullied, then come beg me for a re-sort!  Now how am I going to get her away from those ... people??” he sneered and continued pacing, the portraits watching him while pretending to sleep. “Maybe the older children will take care of it for me. I mean, of course she’s making friends, she’s sweet and light, and how could an 11 yr old child resist that? Those older students, they’re all half twisted from Dark Magic, they’re certain to help me.” He smiled to himself, pleased with his conclusion, and headed up the stairs to bed.  The portraits all exchanged glances, frowning in confusion.

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black spoke, directing his gaze to Armando Dippet.  “You were the one who chose him as headmaster. Now look at him! He’s going crazy! Wanting a child to get bullied, just so he can make the pieces match his precious chessboard!” Dippet didn’t speak, just stared at the ground.  He obviously thought he deserved the lecture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are seriously great readers, and I really appreciate all the support. I've got the next chapter plotted out, which is good because I don't have anything more written yet. I need to get back to a chapter ahead, this is too stressful! :) I have plans and plot ahead! Next time, she should manage to speak with both Marvolo and Quirrellmort. But not at the same time, that would be hard to do.


	14. Dueling Club! (and more)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She chats with Marvolo, goes to Dueling club, meets a pair of infamous twins and so much more!

CHAPTER 14

 

Later that evening, after she had gone to bed, Heather did her normal mediation, with Death Comes Quickly curled up in her lap.  She sorted through all her memories of the day, placing them in the right spots in her mental sewing room. She decided to keep the memory of her magic’s effect on her classmates in a more protected area, so it was locked inside the closet, but not in the lead lined safe she kept her worst memories in.  After that was done, she walked into the study to see Marvolo.

He looked her over as she walked in, and stated matter of factly, “You have something on your mind.” 

“Don’t you feel like reading it now?” She sassed.

“You know very well that it’s not  _ mind reading,  _ it’s legilimency, and it’s quite different on many levels--” He cut himself off, narrowing his eyes as he looked at her. “Why are you trying to distract me? What have you done now?” 

“Really? Why do you always blame me??” She collapsed dramatically into her chair.  Her tone went from teasing to slightly more serious. “What do you know about bloodline gifts?” 

He hummed thoughtfully, before sinking gracefully into his chair.  “There are countless gifts, said to be bestowed by Mother Magic herself upon her favorite children.  Historically, the Blacks were known for changing their faces as well as madness. The Weasleys for husbandry, which has dwindled to fertility it seems... Which explains the startling number of gingers in your school...  The Princes are known for a gift with Potions and spellcrafting. What brought this on?” 

“Well, Blaise, Zabini, you remember? He said that the way I can use my magic to influence people is probably a bloodline gift, and I wanted to know more about it,” she said, glancing off to the side so he couldn’t see her face clearly.

“And how did Mr. Zabini find out about your magic?” He asked coolly.  “I believe that we had agreed that you weren’t going to experiment with your classmates until later in the year.”

“I saw my chance, and I struck.” Her eyes glowed with defiance and certainty. “I had to know why some people hate to be near it and some love it, and I needed to know how my housemates would go.  What if I had tried to calm them down and they hated me or ran? What would I do then? I had to know, and fast. I tested it in our study group, so there were no older kids or teachers around, just us.  Every single one of them liked it! I calmed them, and put them in a studious mood. Daphne and Pansy even quit bickering! For two whole hours! It was amazing.” She met his eyes, refusing to back down from his level gaze.

He nodded, and relaxed. “If the reaction was like that, then it’s fine.  But next time, talk to me first! If you’d tried that with someone else, like the old goat...”

She frowned, cocking her head to the side. “How do you know so much about he’ll react, anyways? You’re not... You’re not as old as he is, are you? Were you.. Friends when you were kids or something?” Her nose was wrinkled in disgust.

“WHAT?! No! I’ve never been his friend!” His voice was filled with distaste.  “I met him when I started school here, some years ago. If you’re truly interested in bloodline gifts, there are some good books in the library on them, but your family specific ones will more than likely be in your family vaults.  The goblins might be able to help you with that, since you have such a friendly relationship with them.” He sneered, but Heather ignored the expression in favor of the information, and just nodded. “Now, while you’re here, I thought it might be handy if I taught you a couple more spells. You’re drawing attention to yourself, and you can expect some reactions. If you can master the incantations and wand motions here, you can practice in your dorm.  The first spell we’re going to work on is Finite Incantatem. It will cancel the effect of most charms. Not all, but definitely all the prank spells a first year should be able to cast. After that, we’ll work on Protego. It will shield you from most spells. I don’t expect you to be able to cast a very strong one yet, you’re still developing your magical core, but you should be able to at least fend off something.” They settled in, and practiced for a couple of hours before she finally had to quit and go to sleep.  

The first thing she did when she woke up was try to cast her new spells.  Surprisingly, after only a few attempts, she could see a flash from Protego.  Finite was taking a bit more time, but she could feel that she was close. “Maybe I can ask a teacher for help... I bet Professor Snape would help with this.  Ugh, but do I want to owe him a favor?” She tilted her head considering. “Can I really be indebted if it’s a teacher, and I’m asking him to teach me something?  Probably, wizards are bizarre. I’ll try and find a book first.” 

Heather chatted with Draco the whole way to the Defense club meeting.  It was held in a large room on the fourth floor. The floors were bare, and there were only chairs, but they were all stacked up against the wall.  A single blackboard on wheels was placed near the back of the room. The room was packed full of students, all falling out into groups, mostly separated by house and year.  A few bucked the trend, but not many. Heather stood to the side of the Slytherin group, with Draco, Tracey, and Millie. The others had decided to stay in the dorm and work on their homework instead.  The door in the back of the room opened, and Quirrell stepped out. He shut it behind him and walked up to the blackboard. He looked around at the huge crowd of students with trepidation clear on his face.

“Uhhh, H-h-hello st-st-students,” he stuttered.  There was an audible groan from the students, and he continued, turning towards the board. “I will b-b-b-be te-te-teaching this club.”

A voice from the Gryffindor contingent piped up, “Is anyone else going to help? Or is it just.. You?” Tittered laughter could be heard from the students surrounding him.

“Uh... Mr. Mc-mc-mclaggen? J-ju-just me.” Quirrell turned his back quickly, and walked over to the board, where he started writing.  Quietly, students started slipping out the door, and the crowd thinned rapidly. All of the fifth and seventh year students left, as did most of the sixth years.  When Quirrell turned back around, the crowd had shrunk by more than half. Heather was relieved, being that crowded in was unpleasant. Quirrell also seemed pleased, and his stance relaxed. “I will be ch-ch-choosing assistants. See the board for ru-rules” His stutter noticeably decreased with the number of students gone.  

On the board, he had written: “One student from each year will be selected as my assistant. They will be responsible for helping organize their year, handing out papers, and other help as needed. Part one of selection will be a written quiz.  Part two is practical spellcasting.” He gestured with his wand, and the chairs flew out into neat rows in front of the board. 

All of the students walked towards the chairs, except Hermione Granger, who was flouncing to the chair in the front and center.  Heather wasn’t in the mood to hurry, and ended up sitting right behind Hermione, and could hear her muttering to herself. “I need to be the assistant, it sounds very prestigious!  He has to see that I’m the brightest witch in my year.” 

Heather snorted, and rolled her eyes at Draco in disbelief.  He shook his head and leaned over to whisper, “How can she be the brightest, when we haven’t even gotten our first assignments back yet?” 

They were handed papers and self inking quills, and they got to work.  The quiz was nothing like what Heather was expecting, and from the disbelieving murmurs around her, that was true for everyone.  The first question read: “If you were confronted with a werewolf, what is the best course of action?” Heather frowned thoughtfully, then wrote, “If it’s the full moon, and night time, I would run. If it’s not, I’d say hello.” 

The questions continued in that vein, theoretical, with no one right answer.  It felt more like a personality quiz than an actual test. She could hear Hermione’s frustration rising with every question.  The final question was “Describe three charms, and how they’d be useful in a formal duel.” Heather grinned, and started writing.  “Lumos can be used to blind your opponent. Scourgify, the cleaning spell, if cast on the face would also be effective. Finally, the levitation spell, cast on the opponents shoes or robes would distract them from continuing.” 

As soon as the last quill was set down, and the students straightened up from where they were hunched over, using books as desks, Quirrell gestured and the papers flew to him.  The papers stacked themselves neatly on the left side of his desk, and he gestured for the students to line up facing a bare wall. “Uh, th-th-they said it would be re-re-ready..” He snapped his fingers, and a small creature popped into the room.  It was a house elf, like she had seen at Malfoy Manor, only this one wore a tea towel with the Hogwarts crest as a sort of tabard. The elf looked at all the students staring and squeaked, before trembling and turning to look up at the professor. “The d-d-d-ummies?” The elf squeaked again, then snapped her fingers and popped out of the room.  Now, along the bare wall were a dozen dummies made out of leather and wood, in vague humanoid shape. “Take turns. First years first.” 

Heather lined next to Draco as the first years demonstrated the only spell they had even tried to learn in Defense thus far, the Knockback Jinx.  Quirrell gave each student three tries, then gestured them off to the side to give someone else a turn. Draco demonstrated the jinx without a lot of difficulty, but sniffed as he walked up to take his turn, “My father taught me this years ago.”

Heather shook her head, but grinned at his boasting. Draco truly wasn’t happy if he didn’t have something to hold over everyone else.  When it was her turn, she walked up to the line, right next to Hermione. She took a deep breath, focusing on her magic, and drawing it towards her hand before gesturing and stating, “Flipendo!” firmly.  Before she had even gotten the incantation out, Hermione had already tried casting the spell twice, ineffectively. Light flashed from Heather’s wand, and the dummy jerked back several meters, a result as good as Draco’s.  Hermione growled to herself when she saw that, and her eyes flashed with annoyance. She gritted out the incantation one more time, adding an extra jab with her wand, as if telling the spell where to go. That time, it worked, and her dummy jerked backwards. Heather smiled at Hermione as she walked away.  “Oh good, you got it! I wasn’t sure if you would manage it.” 

“Of COURSE I can manage that, it’s  a simple spell, and we’ve gone over the theory a dozen times this week,” she replied, obviously annoyed at the sympathy.

“Oh... I hope I didn’t offend you.” Butter wouldn’t melt in Heather’s mouth, but annoyance coursed through her.   _ I was going to make an attempt, but she is just insufferable! Now I’m going to have to impress Quirrell and get that assistant spot, on top of beating her grades in every class.  So much work.  _ She turned and walked over to stand next to Draco.

“Why are you even bothering with that rude know it all?” He spoke quietly, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention given the mixed crowd.

Heather sniffed, rolling her eyes. “I had thought she seemed like she was reasonably intelligent, and could be handy, but.. Obviously she has no interest.  You had better get better grades than her in class, imagine what your father would say to that!” She smirked at him, as his pale complexion got even pastier. “She’s in the library more than the Ravenclaws, is what I’ve heard.  Pansy told me.” 

Draco’s head thumped back against the wall. “Merlin.  If you got it from Pansy, then it’s true. Would you like to meet more than just the weekly study group sessions? I’m going to need it, Transfiguration is not my best subject.” 

“Deal, if you help me with Charms. I can’t seem to get them to work right.” She grinned at him, then turned back to watch the older students take their turns.  The fourth years were up, so only the few remaining sixth years were left after that. They talked quietly for another fifteen minutes, watching the other students while they wrapped up.  They were dismissed, and Quirrell stuttered out that he would contact the assistants by dinnertime.

The pair sauntered to the Great Hall for lunch, while Draco whined about the Defense club. “I thought it was going to be taught by a dueler, not...  _ him _ . How are we supposed to learn anything with that gods awful stutter? He’s useless!  I don’t see why you even want to bother with that club.” 

Heather thought about it briefly, then glanced at him. “You know, you don’t have to stick so close to me. I can go on my own.  I just have a feeling about that club. I think it’s going to be good. Also,” She glanced around, then lowered her voice some more, as they were walking in to the Great Hall, “it’s another chance to show up those Gryffindors.” 

Draco nodded slowly. “I’m not going to let you go on your own, so you can just forget that idea. If you’re that sure, I guess it will be fine.” They took their seats at the lunch table, and Pansy pounced on Draco, asking for all the details about the club.  

Heather ate her lunch slowly, watching all the other students.  Most of the second and third year Slytherins were shooting looks or glares at her, and her fellow first years had huddled a little closer in response. Crabbe and Goyle looked positively menacing, and Theo leaned over Blaise to whisper to Heather, “Watch out this afternoon. It looks like trouble is brewing, and you’re the target.” 

Heather nodded calmly. “It looks that way.  Thanks for the warning, though. I have a plan.” She sipped her tea, quirking a smile at her friends. While the first years had been talking, the majority of the students had made their way out of the hall.  The only other group remaining was at the Gryffindor table, and a loud redhead was at the center of it. Heather rose, and her friends stood with her, as she started to drift towards the exit. Right as they walked out, she heard her name and paused, holding up a hand so that the other Slytherins would let her listen in.

“I’m just saying that I’m going to be dating Heather Potter! Quit laughing at me!  I know she’s a slimy snake, but I can rescue her from them. Potters are Gryffindors, not snakes, she just needs to be saved from them.” Ron Weasley was bragging to his friends, Finnegan and Thomas, as they stood up from the table.

“Mate, I’m not so sure about that, she looked awful happy with that git Malfoy.  Maybe he’s gonna be the one she dates!” The accent identified the speaker as Finnegan.  

Draco looked horrified when Heather glanced at him, and she had to stifle a laugh.  Pansy peeked back into the hall, wanting to see who all was witnessing this bit of drama.  Ron continued, “Seriously! Who would want to date that rat faced ponce, when they could have me?? A real man!” A shriek was heard from the hall, and Heather could no longer resist, and slipped up next to Pansy to look.

Twin redheads in Gryffindor robes had grabbed an arm each of their brother. “A real man? Who would that be?” They traded off speaking, a sentence a piece. “All we see is our darling baby brother, ickle Ronnikins!” Ron tried to shake them off his arms, but they looked to be third years, and were bigger than him. 

“Geroff! Why’re you even botherin’ me? I’m just talking!” Ron’s face was turning red to match his hair as his frustration grew.

“Talking, loudly, in the great hall,” They said, trading off phrases. “Where anyone could hear you.”  Then they turned him, so that he could see the doorway to the room, where Pansy and Heather were standing next to each other, watching them.

Ron’s eyes got huge, and his face paled rapidly. “Uhh,  I ...”

Heather pursed her lips, looked him up and down, and replied coolly, “I am not in need of rescue, and I can’t imagine ever being in need of rescue by you.  Please, keep your fantasies to yourself.” Ron swayed on his feet, his brothers’ grips being the only thing keeping him in place. He stammered a few times, trying to get some words out, while his classmates looked on in abject horror.  After he failed at a few attempts at speaking, she looked at the twins. “Thank you for reminding your brother of common courtesy.” Then she turned on her heel and walked out, the rest of the first year Slytherins falling into place behind her, like an entourage.  The only teacher remaining was Quirrell, and he just watched, his eyes flashing red. A small smirk crossed his lips, and he sipped his tea to hide it.

The whole way back to the common room, Draco kept talking about how he was going to write his Father about this, and can you believe the nerve! And on and on.  Finally, Heather sighed, stopped walking and looked straight at him. “Draco. Do you really think that your father is going to care about this? No. I’ll handle this, don’t worry about it.” Her smile was cruel, and shivers ran down their spines.

The rest of the day passed peacefully.  At dinner, a letter appeared on Heather’s plate before the food popped onto the table. She opened it, curiously, then smiled victoriously.  “I’m Quirrell’s first year assistant for the dueling club,” she said quietly. She looked around, and managed to catch Hermione’s eye. The bushy haired girl glared at her, then stared back down at her plate, aggravated.  Ron was sitting across from her, so Heather couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t seem nearly as boisterous as he had at lunch. 

After dinner, she sauntered into the common room with her friends, only to be confronted by a group of third year students.  There were eight of them, all flanking one boy. He had dishwater blond hair, and a narrow face. The feature that stood out the most was the dark scowl on his face, though.  Draco whispered from behind her, “Cassius Warrington, third year.” 

Heather stepped away from her group, gesturing for them to remain near the door.  “Can I help you?” As she spoke, she started unspooling her magic, preparing for the fight that appeared to be coming.  She kept her hand away from her wand, as none of the others had drawn theirs yet. The room was not full, only a few of the upper year students remained, keeping an eye on things.  None of the prefects were there. 

“I’ve got a problem, with some light witch savior, thinking she can walk into Slytherin, act like she owns the place. You’re nothing but a mudblood! We’ve all seen you lording your way around this school like you own the place, but you need to know where you really belong.” He cracked his knuckles, his hand drifting to the wand pocket in his robe.  His cronies nodded in agreement, glaring viciously at her and her friends.

Heather looked them over coldly, tilted her head to the side, and took another step towards them.  “So who exactly is planning on teaching me a lesson?” She raised her eyebrow, continuing further into the room.  Her magic swiftly unspooled, growing thick in the room. Unlike before, when it was warm and welcoming, this time it felt cold as ice, and heavy in the air.  She stood in front of the group of boys, who towered over her. Her eyes were steady on their faces, and unflinching. The two in the back of the group started shifting uncomfortably, while the other five, not counting Warrington, glanced around with confusion.  Warrington pulled his wand, shoving the tip in her face. 

“I’ll show you what happens to dumb little girls who don’t know their place!” He bared his teeth, his eyes flashing with rage. 

Heather glared back at him, and spread her arms out wide.  She snapped the rest of her aura into the group in front of her, bearing down on them with her magic.  She put every bit of anger that she had felt at her relatives into her magic, all of the frustrations she’d felt the past week, and released more than she had ever allowed to show before.  Her magic burned with a cold fury, and snapped around the eight bullies, pushing them all to the ground. Warrington was the only one to manage to keep on his knees, instead of falling down completely.  The magic tightened like a vise around each of them, pressing the air out of their lungs, freezing their skin. “My place is wherever I say it is. You understand?” Her eyes glowed with the green light of the killing curse, and she tightened her magic even further on Warrington, making it impossible for him to breathe. She continued glaring at them, then looked around at the audience. “Understood?” She flexed her magic again, relaxing the grip on the third years in front of her, in order to chill the rest of the room, and increase the magical pressure.  Most of the other students nodded, their eyes huge. 

Cassius collapsed onto his side, gasping for air.  His neck was covered in frost, but he was still breathing, even if it was very labored.  The boy next to him struggled up onto his knees, and whispered, “We understand, my Lady.” Heather gave them a sharp nod, and swept towards the dormitories.  Her magic roiled in a cloud around her, her temper too high to pull it in. Several of the older students had fallen back in their chairs, their eyes closed, as they felt her magic sweep over them.  She was followed by her friends, but they stopped right at the entrance to the girl’s dormitory wing. She looked over her shoulder at the group, a little surprised that they were still following, and nodded a dismissal as she went straight to her room.

Draco turned to the others, his grey eyes huge. “Did she just...” 

Blaise drawled, “Take over the underclassmen court on her first weekend? Yes.  Now who’s going to tell her what she just did?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of the action scenes, it's my first time writing them. I hope you like this chapter, I've been looking forward to some of these scenes for weeks! Next chapter, the structure for the Slytherin house will be explained properly.


	15. Slytherin Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather figures out exactly what it was she did last chapter, and sorts through it all. 
> 
> a/n: there is a little bit of cussing in this chapter, as a heads up if that bothers you.

Chapter 15!

 

The next morning, when she awoke, she found a note on her desk.  Her name was written on it in flawless cursive. She frowned, and opened it carefully.  The note said, “The Slytherin Court recognizes the new Princess, and requests her presence at the next meeting, 7 pm, in the 7th year study room. You are permitted two escorts.  --Scribe of the Court, Gemma Farley” 

Heather scowls at the letter, annoyed at her own ignorance. “What the hell? Oh, wait.. Not supposed to use muggle curses anymore, Marvolo’ll be pissed. What the... um.. Gah, I don’t even know the right sort of curses anymore! Freaking WIZARDS!” She grabbed a pillow and threw it across the room.  When she stalked over to pick it up again, she heard a knock at her door. She froze, turned to face the door, and walked over to open it. “Um. Hello?” She opened it cautiously. Standing on the other side, perfectly made up and ready for the day, were Pansy and Daphne.

Daphne spotted the letter still in her hand and smiled knowingly. “Oh, good, you got the invitation.  I thought you would, but--” Heather opened the door the rest of the way and gestured the girls in. She was still wearing her favorite frilly nightgown, and her hair was braided back tightly for sleep.

“Can you explain this? Why the he-- why is the prefect calling herself a scribe, and me a princess?? Is this a joke?” Her eyes were frosty, and her magic was starting to slip out.

Pansy shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, Potter, it’s not a joke. Seriously, calm down! Don’t you know anyth--” Daphne brushed her friend aside and interrupted her.

“Ignore her. Last night, when you destroyed that third year, Cassius?  He was the Prince, the leader of the underclassmen, those third year and below.  The older students have their own court, led by a King. This year it’s Gavin Yaxley.  He was prince as a third year, and stayed at the top of his class from then on. We haven’t had a first year as Princess or Prince..” She cocked her head in thought, trying to remember. “I don’t even know the last time, first years just don’t win these sort of confrontations. You saw, he brought his whole court with him! How did you do that, anyways?” She stared expectantly at Heather.

Heather frowned consideringly, and set the letter down as she went to pull out fresh clothes for the day.  “So that’s it? Are they going to try and take it back?” She quietly refused to answer the question about what she had done.

Pansy pushed back past Daphne, and walked over to examine the rest of Heather’s clothes. “They might.  Or they might just hex you in the back. This is nice.” She ran her fingers over some of the embroidered robes that Heather had been working on in her spare time. “Your elf is very good.”

“Uh, I did that myself, Pansy, and I don’t remember inviting you into my wardrobe.” She nudged the girl back, and quickly shut the doors. “Hm. I guess that means I’ll have to get them on my side, quickly.” Her face was contemplative, and her thoughts obviously a million miles away.

Daphne interrupted her thinking. “If you’d like some more information about the Court before the meeting today, I’m sure that Draco is dying to help you. They’re waiting for you in the Common Room right now, in fact.” 

Heather did a double take. “Already? It’s early, though! Draco never gets up this early, unless...” Her eyes rounded, and she stared at the two girls. “This really is a huge deal, isn’t it?” Her voice was small and uncertain. “I just didn’t want to get hurt.”

Daphne smiled at her, reassuringly. “It will be fine.  Just get dressed, do your hair, and get ready to put on a show.  The Common Room is not empty.” 

With that, the two girls left Heather to figure out the best tactics for this morning.   _ I can’t ask Marvolo what to do right now, I don’t have time for the headache he’ll give me for doing something this flashy.  What was I supposed to do, though? Let them walk all over me?? Ok. Plans. Need a plan.  _ She quickly changed her clothes, glad she had showered the night before, and rebraided her hair into a loose cascade that kept it out of her face, but unbound in the back.  Her hair was curly and wild, barely on the side of controlled chaos. She brushed some lip gloss on her lips, and took a deep breath before venturing out of her room.

She strode into the common room, her chin up, and her magic flowing around her in lazy arcs. Her magic was imposing, but lacked the chill and anger of the previous night.  She glanced around, nodding to the people she recognized, before walking over to the group of first years off by the nearest fireplace. Before she could get there, one of the boys who had confronted her the previous day walked up.  His hair and eyes were both dark brown, and he was large and muscular, for a thirteen year old. He dwarfed Heather as he approached, more than a head taller than her. His voice was quiet, and he pretended not to notice the magic wrapping around him.  “My lady, if you need an escort at some point, or a tutor, please remember that I am in your debt.” 

Draco and Theo slipped up to flank her, while the other students watched while pretending not to.  Theo leaned over and whispered, “He is indebted. Accept and we’ll explain before breakfast.” 

Heather looked steadily at Theo, judging his trustworthiness, before nodding, and looking back at the boy. “What’s your name?” Her magic wrapped around him, getting a sense for his aura.  She could feel that he was solid, like a boulder as opposed to Draco’s quicksilver nature.

“Graham Montague.  Third year, chaser on the quidditch team. I’m taking Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.” Heather nodded slowly, looked him up and down, and smiled.

“Thank you for your offer, I accept.” Graham relaxed fractionally, and smiled back at her. He leaned in to the feel of her magic, his own pushing towards the surface to get closer. He swayed forward a little, then caught himself, his eyes widening. 

“You don’t need to worry about Cassius for a while, I’ve got him under control.” Heather nodded, not quite willing to trust him completely, but accepting his word.  Draco and Theo led her off quickly towards her friends and their study room. Many calculating eyes watched her as she went.

Inside the study room, Draco quickly spun to face her. “That thing you did with your magic, the way you brought him to his knees... Can you do that to anyone?” His eyes were calculating, his expression intense.

Heather shrugged one shoulder, studying her new friends. “Maybe. Never done that before, it’s not come up.  People don’t normally just walk up and attack me to my face, you know? Tell me about the Court. And why he said he’s indebted.” She leaned back against the wall next to the door, crossing her arms over her chest. Her expression was guarded, not her normal pleasant mein.

Draco looked at Daphne, then to Theo and back to Heather. “You really don’t know.  Alright. Well. Slytherin has always had a court. There’s a king or queen, then their Right and Left hands, Consort, General, Knights, Ladies, Scribe, Scholar, Ambassador.. Whatever positions they have need of.  Really though, Slytherin has had two courts for at least the past.. Uhh.. 200 years or so. The Queen of that year had a younger brother, who wanted some experience, and so she split the Court. Now underclassmen, which is first through third years, have their own court, headed by a Prince or Princess. Once they become a fourth year, they have to earn a new position in the King’s Court, but really, they’ve usually got enough allies that they can make a play for King before their seventh year.  Yaxley’s king now. He’s alright, but not really the brightest lumos out there.” Draco paused for the first time and looked Heather over. “You with me so far?” Heather nodded, still looking very serious as she considered his words. “Now, the debt.” Draco started pacing, his hands behind his back. The rest of the first years settled more comfortably into their seats, waiting for the lecture. “Last night, you could have put any one of those boys in the hospital wing, with no repercussions. They attacked a first year, eight on one, in public.  No subtlety whatsoever.” He sounded exasperated, and continued. “Not only that, but they lost. To a first year. Who was raised by muggles.” He shook his head. “Graham’s the smartest of the bunch, apologizing and swearing to you first. Cassius... He’s good at Quidditch.” He shook his head. “His family is going to be on him to regain status somehow. You’re going to have to watch your back.”

Heather met his eyes calmly, and nodded. Her spine was ramrod straight, and there was no sign of nerves on her face.

Daphne cut in, “She got an invitation to meet the Court this evening at 7. They said she can bring two people.” Heather frowned, looking over her friends consideringly.

“I guess that means I should bring my right and left hand? But I’ve not picked anyone yet.” 

Draco nodded, glanced at the group and cast a quick Tempus. “You can work on that later.  It’s time for breakfast, and you cannot be late today. I’ll show you to your new spot.” 

Heather stopped, and turned her full attention to him, no longer considering the evening’s meeting. “My new spot?” 

“Yes... As the Princess, you’ll be sitting where Cassius was yesterday.” He grinned, in a decidedly sharklike manner.

“Well then... Let’s put on a show.  Draco, on my right, Tracey, my left. Millie, I want you to guard my back.  Crabbe, Goyle, flank Millie and help out there. The rest of you, fall in where you feel appropriate.” Draco preened, but with an air of entitlement.  Tracey and Millie looked shocked that they were even mentioned. With that, Heather opened the door, and walked out, self confidence oozing from her.  _ Fake it ‘til you make it, right? They want power, I’ll show them power.   _

Fearlessly, she met everyone’s eyes in the common room, as she walked to the exit.  Right before she stepped out, she caught Gemma’s eye, and nodded, a small smile curling her lips.  

When she sat down, now at the center of the first half of the table, she was flanked by her closest compatriots.  There was a small gap between the first years and most of the rest of the underclassmen, except for Graham, who made himself comfortable directly across from Heather.  She smiled at him, accepting his chosen seat. The rest of Slytherin looked on, a mixture of bemusement, horror, and fear in their eyes. The second years who were now displaced to the end of the table closest to the teachers looked sullen.

Severus was running late to breakfast, and arrived after the majority of his House.  He cast a weather eye over them and dropped his spoon before he could even put a bit of sugar in his tea.  Minerva turned to look at him in shock, as this was the biggest reaction he’d had at the breakfast table in years.  “What’s wrong, Severus?” she asked him kindly.

“N-nothing, Minerva.” Despite the small stutter at the beginning of his sentence, he recovered and concealed his emotions quickly.  Minerva looked out over the Slytherin table and frowned in thought. 

“I didn’t think first years were welcome in that particular part of the table Severus.  Is she going to be in trouble with the rest of the house?” She sounded concerned, worried for Heather’s safety.

Severus just shook his head. “I’m sure that it’s fine. I’ll check in with Malfoy and make sure, though.” 

She nodded, and returned her attention to her breakfast.  Severus sighed with relief that she was so easily fobbed off.  She had never shown any interest in intrahouse politics, and thankfully hadn’t changed that much, just because Potter was sorted into his house.   _ How on earth did she take the younger Court on her first weekend at school?! This isn’t possible! Salazar. Why can’t I just quit this job?  _ He picked up his spoon and moodily finished doctoring his tea.  He glanced over at Dumbledore’s spot, glad that he wasn’t present for breakfast today.

Heather made arrangements to meet with most of the first years that afternoon, to sort out the details, and returned to her room to meditate.  Her hands shook as soon as she shut the door behind her, and she looked around her room madly, her nerves sparking. She glared at the door, finally free to let her emotions out, and punched her pillow. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now??” She collapsed onto her bed, staring up at the green hangings. “Princess? God. I mean... Morgana! This is insanity. How can they be such cowards?! They deserve to have a first year halfblood in charge of them if they don’t even have enough balls to stand up to some magic.” She shook her head, and pushed herself up. “Merlin.  I’d better write Narcissa before Draco has a chance. And.. Oh man... Marvolo...” Her lips tightened, and her eyes flashed with anger. 

Quickly, she penned a letter to Narcissa, and left it on her desk to dry.  She then laid down on her bed and dropped into her mindscape. Her temper was riding high, and her magic flashed around her, even in her own mind.  Her hair was sparking with magic, the barely restrained curls dripping golden magic. Marvolo was relaxing in a chair, reading one of her books. He looked up quizzically when she appeared in a flash of thunder.  He looked her over, rising to his feet as he noticed the anger she was projecting. “What is going on, Heather?” He sounded cautious, and stepped away from the chair and the books, crossing his arms over his chest.  “You seem... upset...” 

“You never told me!” Her eyes blazed with anger as she looked at him, her hands sparking, even though they didn’t hold a wand.

He paled, considering everything he hadn’t told her and maintained eye contact, barely.  “What didn’t I tell you? I’m sure I had a good reason.” He spoke with a studied disinterest, belied by the look on his face. 

Heather glared at him, and started pacing.  “Slytherin politics. Why didn’t you tell me about the courts?” 

Marvolo blinked several times, and his shoulders relaxed.  He returned to his seat and spoke far more calmly. “What bearing does that have on you? You’re just a firstie.” He attempted a sneer, but compared to his usual effort it was lackluster.  

Heather turned to face him again, her eyes glowing green. “Yeah, well, you’re looking at the new Princess.  How the he--- ARGHHH I can’t even curse anymore and it’s All. Your. Fault.” She glared at him, gritting her teeth, and planting her fists on her hips.

His eyes danced, but he resisted the urge to smirk at her. “You’re adorable when you’re angry---” He stopped suddenly and his eyes narrowed, looking at her. “Wait.  Did you say you’re the princess? How did you pull that one off?”

She collapsed dramatically into her chair, her torso draped over one arm of the chair and her legs over the other.  She draped her arm over her eyes, and whined. “I know, it doesn’t make any sense! All I did was release some of my magic, wrap them up in it, making sure they felt my anger, my rage, and then forced them to kneel.  I dunno why that worked, I mean, seriously, are they that weak willed?” 

“Heather.  Do you mean to tell me that you over powered the former prince without casting a spell?”  His voice was quiet and contemplative.

“Well, yeah, it’s not like I know any spells really.  I had to get the drop on him or him and his court were going to kill me.” Her voice was muffled from the arm over her face, but Marvolo did his best to ignore her ridiculous pose.

He was silent long enough for her to look over at him. “His court too?  Were there any other witnesses?” 

In a small voice, “Um. Yes. there were a lot of people watching.  But I didn’t release all of my magic. I know we planned for me to fly under the radar, but I don’t know what else I could have done, there were eight of them!” 

He nodded, leaning back in his chair to think.  “This isn’t bad. I mean, obviously, if you could stick to a plan we would be better off, but given your...” 

She sat up and glared at him, her anger reignited. “This is  _ your fault. _  If you had told me that there was a court, then maybe I could have avoided it, but no! It doesn’t matter for me, and what do you know, now I have to meet the Upperclassmen with two of mine as backup and I don’t have a Merlin damned clue what to do!” 

He smiled at her, a thing of teeth and anger. “Now there we go.  That’s the attitude you need. Meet with your minions later, figure out who to take.  I’d recommend your Malfoy, plus the Nott boy. Their families are known for... loyalty.” His lips twisted into a smirk, and she nodded. 

“Yeah, I have to bring Draco, but I was thinking Daphne or Tracey for the other.” Her temper calmed visibly, the sparks disappearing, and her eyes dying down to their normal green.

He hummed contemplatively. “Bringing Daphne would increase her loyalty to you, as the ones you bring are going to gain some status for that alone. It’s up to you, of course,” the bitterness was evident in his voice, but he continued, “I trust you will make a ... decent.. Decision.” 

She took a deep breath, releasing the residual tension, and relaxed, smiling at him. “Thanks, Marvolo.  I knew you would help me. You’re always there to help me figure out what to do next. I don’t know what I would do without you. I don’t really have anyone I can trust here, but I know I can trust you.”

He grimaced as he replied, “Why on earth do you think you can trust me?” 

She smirked at him. “Right now? You’re stuck in my head.  If I get killed, where will you go? You need me right now.  Probably not forever, I don’t think you’d be happy stuck in a little girl’s head for years, but for right now? Helping me helps you.”  She closed her eyes, and returned to her real bedroom.

Marvolo stared at the chair she had just vacated, his eyes round with shock. “That blasted child... Just said that? I thought she had been told who exactly I was, and she leaves here thanking me and saying that she can trust me?  I’m going to have to tell her before she figures it out on her own. She’s got the most unbelievable luck, she’ll probably stumble across the answer before finals.” He stared into the fire contemplatively. “I’ll wait long enough that she’s settled in at Hogwarts.  No need to upset her right now.” 

oOo

Heather spent several hours after lunch talking with the other first years, plus Graham, about the meeting that evening.  She chose to bring Draco and Tracey with her to the meeting, and Daphne helped pick out her robes. She needed to look good, but not like she was on her way to the Yule Ball, and Daphne and Pansy were more than happy to offer advice, then help her with a bit of makeup.

After all the build up, the meeting itself was rather boring.  Yaxley was tall, with thin blond hair and a weak chin. The majority of his court stared at Heather with predatory eyes.  After a few minutes of stilted conversation, Gemma turned on the radio, and everyone started relaxing. The next several hours were spent nibbling toasts with small bits of food on them and sipping on apple juice while pretending it was champagne.  As Heather watched the King and his closest, she leaned over and whispered to Draco. “They’re drinking actual fire whiskey now, aren’t they?” He nodded, eyeing their glasses. 

Heather looked over at Tracey, nodded slightly at the confirmation she got from her, then looked back to Draco.  “I’d rather not stay at a party once the alcohol starts. How early can we leave without it being rude?” 

Draco sighed, obviously a little annoyed, and Heather rolled her eyes. “You can stay as long as you’d like, but not if you’re going to get drunk.  I won’t have that sort of behavior.” Her eyes were steely as they met his. He froze, then nodded. 

“If you’re ready to go, you can go.  Thanks for letting me stay, though. I’ll make this worthwhile for you.” Heather just nodded, then linked arms with Tracey, heading towards the door.  

After they left the room, she leaned over and whispered to Tracey. “Sorry about that, I just.. When the strong liquor comes out, parties turn into something I don’t like so much.” 

Tracey smiled at her. “No worries. I hate drunk boys, too.  So grabby!” In less than ten minutes, Heather was again alone in her room, or as alone as she ever got.

 

**A manor, Somewhere in Wiltshire**

 

“Lucius, whatever plans you have in the works for that Potter girl, you had best get a move on.  She’s drawing quite a bit of attention up there.” Severus collapsed in a chair in Lucius’s study, his expression drawn.

“Oh? And why do you say that,” Lucius drawled, sipping his firewhiskey.

“That blasted child dethroned the Prince, and is currently meeting with the Court as the new Princess.  Your son is at her right hand.” 

Lucius choked, nearly spitting out the expensive whiskey.  After several minutes of coughing, trying to clear his lungs of the smoke, he finally croaked out, “If this is some prank you’ve thought up...” 

Severus just smirked and poured his old friend more to drink. “I am nowhere near this creative.”

Just then, the door opened, and Narcissa strolled in.  “Oh good, you’re here, Sev. I need you to deliver this care package when you get back to Hogwarts.  I don’t want Dumbledore seeing it, though.” She handed him a box, clearly from Twilfit & Tattings. 

“Why the secrecy, it’s clothing, right?” He sneered at the expensive logo as he accepted it.

“Ah, yes, it is clothes, along with some jewelry.  Please make sure that Heather gets it quickly. I couldn’t get it together before her meeting with the Court tonight, but it will be good for her to have before next weekend.” Both men froze, then looked up at her.

“Severus was telling the truth? She’s really the princess?” Lucius looked and sounded poleaxed.  

“Didn’t Draco write you? Both he and Heather sent me letters this morning.” She raised an eyebrow at both of them, unimpressed, and swept out of the room.

“Every once in a while, I am reminded that your wife is a Black by birth.” Severus sounded exhausted.

“You should remember that that ‘blasted girl’ is a Black too.” Lucius smirked at his old friend, enjoying his aggravation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than 1k kudos! You are all the greatest, and <3 to you! I hope you liked this chapter.


	16. Flying lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we have the famed Flying lesson!

CHAPTER 16

 

After the excitement of the first week of school, things quickly settled into a routine.  Heather went to classes, did homework, practiced her wandless magic, and spent time in the Common Room, making sure that she was seen.  She hadn’t really spoken with Marvolo in two weeks, all he would say was that he was busy on a project. She did meet with Quirrell and the other Defense Club assistants on Thursdays.  The club had settled down to just about fifty members, most of whom were first years. 

At breakfast one day in mid September, Draco could barely contain himself.  His knee was bouncing with excitement, and he kept fidgeting with his silverware.  Heather frowned contemplatively at him. “What is going on, Draco? You’re not usually so... wound up.. At breakfast.” 

He stilled his hands immediately and straightened his posture immediately. “Apologies, Heather. I didn’t mean to disturb your breakfast.” 

She caught herself right before she rolled her eyes, and looked past Draco to Theo. “What is going on with him?” She sounded exasperated, and far older than her 11 years.

Theo smirked. “I’d guess you didn’t see the message board last night, then? Flying lessons this afternoon, with the Gryffindors.” 

Heather’s shoulders relaxed and she sighed. “Flying lessons? I was worried something was wrong.  Of course, we have to be stuck with them. Who wouldn’t want to send a bunch of armed children into the air on a broomstick, with a history of fights between the groups?” She continued muttering to herself, shaking her head.  

Tracey nudged her. “Look at Granger, I think she’s about to pass out.  Longbottom isn’t far behind.” 

Heather did as requested and frowned slightly at what she saw. “I think that girl is getting him all worked up. He’d be fine if people just stopped pressuring him!  Someone oughta do something about it.” She glared at the Gryffindors, then looked at her classmates, all of whom made quick moves to study their breakfasts. “Of course. No one in his house, and none of you? Fine.” She looked around, then nodded. “Blaise, Theo, and Millie. You’re with me.”  She stood up, and made her way casually towards the Gryffindor table, stopping at Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw to speak to some of her yearmates about their shared classes. Theo and Blaise chatted to each other, doing a good job of looking like they weren’t guarding her, while still paying attention to everything.  Millie just stood at Heather’s left, looking bored. When Heather met her eyes, the taller girl gave her a small smile. Heather knew that they shared the same opinion about the bullying of Neville by the other Gryffindor boys.

As the knot of Slytherins drifted closer to the first year Gryffindor table, a few teachers began to take note.  Severus kept his eyes on Heather, while pretending great focus on his breakfast. Dumbledore watched them, his twinkle absent, but McGonagall didn’t notice, as she was deep in conversation with Professor Vector.  Heather had finally reached Neville’s spot at the table, when Weasley started talking to him.

“Oi! Longbottom, what’s that thing?” He gestured to the small red glass ball that Neville was holding.

“A Remembrall, my Gran sent it to me today.  Glows red when you’ve forgotten something.” He frowned at it, trying to figure out what he had forgotten.

“Interesting!” Heather interjected, smiling down at Neville.  He jumped, not having noticed her approach. Ron and Hermione both glared at her, from opposite ends of the first year section of the table. “How does a charm like that work? Or is it runes?”  She was fascinated, and edged a little closer.

Neville blushed, and offered it up to her to examine. “I th-th-think a charm, but--”

Before Heather was able to take it and look more closely, Ron cut in. “What are you doing here, you slimy snake? Botherin’ Neville, trying to take his things!” He reached out and snatched the ball from Neville’s hand. 

Heather blinked rapidly in shock, looking from Neville to Ron, then back again. “Weasley, I was talking to my friend, Neville. Please don’t take things that aren’t yours.” Her voice sounded like she was speaking to a recalcitrant toddler, patronizing and overly sweet.

Neville looked up at her and smiled, pleased at her defense.  “Ronald, I was sh-sh-showing Heather my gift. Please give it back.” He turned to look at his dorm mate, and extended his hand.  Ron glared at them both, then shoved it back at the other boy. Neville then offered it up to Heather again.

She smiled at him, brightly.  Neville’s eyes widened, and he blinked rapidly.  The full force of Heather’s smile was overwhelming.  His spine straightened even more, and he exchanged nods of hello with the other Slytherins lurking in the vicinity.  Theo gave him a smile full of commiseration for the stunned look on his face. Hermione returned to muttering flying tips from her book.  Heather finished checking out the ball and handed it back. She leaned closer to him and whispered, “You’re going to do great today, I just know it. Don’t worry about whatever it is she’s saying, she’s just worrying you. If you want, you can have lunch out on the grounds with me and my friends. It’s bound to be calmer.” 

Neville smiled at her, gratefully, and nodded. “Th-thanks, Heather.” 

Ron grumbled, glaring at the boys with Heather. “Why’re all of you over here anyways? Does Potter need an escort just to walk across the hall? What about when you go to the loo? Need someone to hold your hand there too?” His tone was snide, and his face was slowly turning redder with frustration. “Don’t know why you’re even over here, slimy snakes don’t belong here.” 

Heather frowned at him, and Blaise and Theo stopped their conversation to focus all their attention on him.  Silence descended on their corner, as all of the nearby Gryffindors, and the Hufflepuffs behind them, looked to see her reaction.  Heather looked at him confused. “I.. was talking to my friend, Weasley.” She used small, simple words, and the same patronizing tone from earlier, but expression was pure innocent puzzlement. “I don’t know how things work in your house, but in Slytherin, we look out for each other.  Like, Millie here? She would never have let me walk out of the dorms without my full uniform on.” She looked at Neville, gesturing to his lack of robes. “I’m sorry Neville, I thought they would have told you. If you’d like, we’ve got Charms together first, and I can take your bag to class, so you can make it back to the dorm and not lose any points for your house.”  

Neville turned crimson, looking down at himself. “Oh.  That’s what I forgot.” He closed his eyes, obviously dying of embarrassment. “Yes please, Heather.  Thanks for the warning, the prefects warned me what would happen if I lost the house anymore points.” Heather’s eyes widened, and she looked at Blaise to see if he heard that.  The wide eyed look on their faces confirmed that this was shocking to them too.

Ron finally came out of his stupor, and growled, pulling his wand to point at her. “You need to leave him alone!” 

A silky voice echoed across the Great Hall, “Ten points from Gryffindor, threatening students at breakfast is unacceptable.  Move along, Miss Potter, if you’re done with your breakfast already.” Heather shot a glance to Professor Snape, and quirked her lips in a quick smirk before nodding and turning to leave.

“I thought you were better than the rest of those snakes, Potter, but I guess not! You’re right where you belong, aren’t you?” Ron’s face was as red as his hair, and he glared at her hatefully while putting his wand back in his pocket.

Heather frowned at him and just shook her head before walking off, carrying Neville’s bag as well as her own. As soon as they were out of the Great Hall, she whispered, “What exactly did they expect from me? A perfect Gryffindor savoir?” 

Theo pursed his lips, then nodded. “Pretty much.  Did you know there are children’s books about you? In one of them you defeated a horde of vampires with the help of your unicorn familiar and the power of love.”  Disdain dripped from his words. 

She frowned. “I forgot about that.  I meant to write to my account manager, find a solicitor to sue the publishers.  I’ve never given permission for my likeness or name to be used.”

Blaise smiled, and drawled lazily, “If you’re in need of a contact, my mother has a terrifying firm working for her.  She’s never had a complaint.” 

Millie laughed quietly, “If the Black Widow says they’re good, they’ve got to be bloody brilliant!”  

Heather raised an eyebrow and looked at Blaise with more interest. “Black Widow?  She sounds interesting. Mind introducing me?” Blaise groaned, but acquiesced. 

oOo

 

That afternoon, after a lovely picnic by the lake, two lines of children stood next to a bent and worn collection of school brooms.  Heather eyed hers with concern, but offered a reassuring smile to Neville, who was directly across from her. Somehow, everyone made it through a quick demonstration of how to fly and how to land safely, even Hermione and Neville.  Hermione was scared of heights, and didn’t get more than ten feet above the ground. Neville barely kept in control, and almost fell at one point, but after a deep breath, he managed to keep ahold of the broom. After the lesson, Hooch, the hawk faced instructor, took them all over to the Quidditch pitch.  “Alright, children! You all did quite well today, so as a treat, we’re going to run some Quidditch drills. No bludgers, Poppy almost killed me after last time, and the snitch is set in practice mode. Line up if you want to join in, sit in the stands if you’re not playing. Heather grinned excitedly at Draco, who was nearly glowing with excitement. Daphne and Pansy joined Neville and Hermione in the stands, along with a couple other Gryffindors.  

She went through the chaser drills with Millie and Tracey as her teammates, then did a seeker’s match versus Draco.  Heather flew like she had been born with wings. She loved the feel of the wind in her face, the freedom of floating through the air, and the excitement of hunting down the golden ball.  After they were done, when they were about to go back to broomshed to put away the broomsticks, Draco cut into the conversation. “Listen, Heather. I have an idea, but I need to get my snitch.  Can you wait here with everyone else until I get back?” 

“You have your own snitch? Do you think we could play a bit more when you get back?” Her eyes sparkled, and she tucked her windblown hair back behind her ears.  Her cheeks were ruddy, and her grin enormous.

“You’re not tired yet? Circe! How many times have you been on a broom before?” Theo cut in.  Draco took off at a fast pace, but didn’t run. 

“Never! It’s brilliant, though.  I thought it would be awful, I mean, sitting on a broomstick?! How stereotypical! But.. It’s just...” She sighed, and looked up at the sky. “It’s perfection.”

“Wait until you try it on a half decent broom,” Theo drawled.  “Knowing Draco, you might get one for Christmas.” Neville stood awkwardly, next to the Slytherins, but pleased to be included in the group.  

Just then, Draco returned. “Alright Heather! Here’s the deal.  I’ve got five snitches. I’ll release all of them, and lets see how many you can catch in... five minutes.” 

Blaise scoffed. “That’s not enough time! No one can catch them that fast, and on a school broom...” He sneered at the broom.

Heather just shrugged. “Alright.  Someone else keeps time, though.” She smoothed her hair, and kicked off into the air almost instantly.  She tightened her hands on the worn broomstick, an unrestrained grin crossing her face.

Draco handed out snitches and counted down.  They all buzzed into the air at the same moment, and flew off in different directions around the pitch.  Heather closed her eyes for just a second, and then Draco yelled “GO!!” And she was off. She darted off to the right, catching a glimpse of gold in her peripheral vision.  The snitch she was chasing ducked and dodged, staying just out of reach of her slow broom. Finally, it went left in a loop, and she was able to cut across and grab it. She shoved the snitch into her shirt, as she had nowhere else to put it, and rocketed up to survey the rest of the pitch.  She caught a glimpse of the next one, almost directly below her. She looped out just a bit, pretending she hadn’t noticed it, and then dove, almost straight down. The audience gasped, and Tracey covered her eyes before peeking through her fingers to see what happened next. Just before she hit the ground, Heather pulled out of the dive, and wrapped her fingers gently around the snitch.  That one followed the first, and she was off for the next. The only sound on the pitch was Heather’s delighted laughter.

“Bloody hell, that girl’s insane, Draco,” Crabbe muttered.

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Crabbe.” The familiar voice came from directly behind Draco, but no one was standing there.  

Crabbe paled, “Professor, I’m sorry for the language!” 

Professor Snape shimmered into view as he cancelled the disillusionment spell. His eyes did not stray from Heather, as she caught the third snitch.  “Just this once, I can understand the sentiment. Do not repeat it.” 

Crabbe nodded, and looked back to Heather.  While he wasn’t looking, she had caught the fourth snitch, and she was moving for the fifth.  It was leading her on a chase, dodging around the hoops, and in one case going straight through them.  Finally, she was able to corner it, and quickly returned to the group, her grin enormous.

“That was amazing, Draco! Did I make the time?” She looked at the stunned group of first years and their head of house, and quickly dismounted the broom. “Oh. Professor Snape.  I.. I’m sorry? Am I in trouble?” 

Snape looked up at the sky, then at the girl, and growled. “No, not yet, but the day is young.” He looked her up and down, then at the snitch in her hand. “Come with me, we’ll speak in my office.  And return those blasted things to Mr. Malfoy this instant.” 

Heather blushed crimson, and turned her back to the group so she could get the snitches out of the bottom of her shirt.  She quickly returned them, and asked Tracey to put up her broom. She trotted after her tall professor, taking two or three steps for every one of his.  

Professor Snape led her back to his office, and sat down behind his desk, regarding her levelly over folded hands. “Miss Potter. It is not generally acceptable for first year students to fly without adult supervision, especially not while performing reckless stunts.” Heather looked down at her hands, which were holding each other tightly.  She nodded, voicelessly, and her shoulders hunched. He continued, “However, Draco was right to fetch me along with the snitches, so that I could see you fly for myself.” 

Her eyes shot up and met his, wide with confusion. “Draco asked you to come? But...”

“If I may continue?” He raised an eyebrow, looming over her.  Heather had been reading people and situations since she could remember though, and she could see the glint of humor in his eyes, and visibly relaxed into her chair.  “Slytherin’s seeker graduated last year, and tryouts are Saturday. You will not try out for the position, but you will be playing in our first match. Meet with Marcus Flint so he can start working on strategy with you.”

The more he said, the more confused she got. “But.. First years aren’t allowed on the team, that’s what Draco told me.” 

Snape smirked at her. “It’s not against the rules, they just generally aren’t any good.  You, however, are excellent. I can’t let Minerva keep the cup in her office this year, she had it too many years with that Second Weasley as seeker. You’ll do fine.  Let’s keep this between us, though. Keep Longbottom’s mouth shut, too.”

_ The Quidditch team? I don’t even know the rules! And ... Flint is that big, mean looking boy.  I have to work with him? Ugh. But... If I’m on the team, and I win, then the whole team might protect me.  That’s worth the extra time away from classes.  _ She nodded. “Alright sir.  I’ll get with Flint after dinner.” Snape nodded, and quickly wrote a note for Flint as she removed herself.  

oOo

On her way to dinner that evening, with her normal group, Heather came across Neville, loitering outside the door.  “You guys go on, I need to talk to Neville real quick.” After a few glances were exchanged, the rest of the first years went into the hall, leaving her to lead Neville to an alcove out of the way.  “Look, Neville, I need a favor.” Her eyes were big and imploring, and all of her focus was on him. 

Neville blushed and looked down at his feet, then back up at her bashfully. “I dunno what I could do for you, Heather..” 

She smiled and patted his shoulder. “No, this is easy.  Just.. Can you keep quiet about what happened on the pitch earlier? I don’t want any of those other Gryffindors finding out.  I can tell you more a little later about why.” 

Neville turned even redder, and nodded.  “Of c-c-ourse, Heather. None of them talk to me anyway, so I dunno who I’d even tell.” 

Heather frowned. “Are they being mean? Because--”

He cut in, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” She watched his face carefully and nodded.

“Alright, but if that changes, you have to tell me right away.  I don’t like people bullying my friends.” Her magic slipped out, washing over him quickly.  He smiled, more naturally, and the blush faded as he leaned in to her magic. They separated shortly thereafter and went back to their respective tables.

When she sat down between Draco and Tracey, she noticed that the seating had changed again, and the Quidditch team was closer to her end of the table than before.  She could feel their eyes on her while she ate. She whispered, “Neville isn’t being treated right by his house. He’s mine now.” 

Draco and Theo exchanged a look, then looked back to her. “But.. He’s a lion, how?” Draco was the one to speak, and he kept his voice quiet enough not to reach the upper years.

She looked at him levelly. “I won’t tolerate bullying, and I think those other boy lions are bullying him.  He’ll sit with us in shared classes, and study with us. Theo, I need you to find us a new room to study in once a week, outside of the dungeons. Maybe we can even partner up with him during potions, and get him to stop blowing up the room every other day.” She smirked, and returned to her dinner, ignoring the looks her court exchanged around her.  No one was willing to object, and so the meal continued quietly.

Before bed, she met with the imposing Quidditch captain in the common room.  He drew her off to the side, and spoke quietly. “Professor Snape tells me you can fly, and you’re our new seeker.  I’ve seen everyone else here fly, and I know how good they are, but not you. Meet me out here at 5:30 Saturday morning, and we’ll go out to the pitch and I can give you a try out.”

Heather looked all the way up at him, and nodded slowly. “Alright.” She fidgeted briefly, then continued. “I’ll meet you, but only if I can bring someone with me.” Her spine straightened, and she released a little of her magic to get a feel for his aura.  

He looked at her confused for a moment, then backed up a step, realizing how close he was standing. “Oh! Of course. Bring one or two of your court if you want, that’s fine.  Just pick people who can keep their mouth shut. If you’re as good as Snape said, I want to keep you secret as long as I can before the match against Gryffindor.” His eyes glazed over, as he thought of victory over their rivals.  

Heather nodded, feeling his competitiveness, the fire of his magic, and his single minded focus on sports. He reminded her of the star football player at her primary school, and she relaxed marginally. “Alright then.  See you then.” 

oOo

The next morning, at breakfast, Severus sipped his tea smugly.  Dumbledore leaned over to speak with him. “Severus, my dear boy, you seem exceptionally pleased this morning, has something happened?” 

Severus glared at him briefly, before returning his attention to his House table, where the first years were talking amongst themselves, except for Heather, who was leaned over in discussion with Graham Montague, chaser for the quidditch team.  He smirked to himself, and looked back at the headmaster, manfully ignoring the aqua robes with shimmering iridescent stars. “Nothing has happened. I’m testing the first years later, and I’m imagining the looks on their faces when they get a pop quiz.” 

Dumbledore shook his head, frowning minutely, “Now, Severus, is that really fair?” Successfully having distracted the headmaster, Severus ignored the lecture, and just watched his students enjoy breakfast.  

During her free period, Heather hurried back to her room, where she penned several letters.

 

_ Lady Zabini,   _

_ Thank you for agreeing to correspondence.  I have heard many wonderful things about you from your son, Blaise.  We have become good friends these few weeks of school, and when he told me you might be able to help with a certain problem of mine, I could not resist writing to you immediately.  I currently find myself in need of a solicitor. My likeness has been used to sell books and other goods without my permission and without payment. If you could put me in touch with someone, I would be in your debt.  Blaise has said that we have much in common, and if you will be at the Malfoy Yule Ball, I would love to make your acquaintance in person. Aunt Cissa has told me how wonderful the Ball is, and I cannot wait!  _

_ Thank you again for your help in this matter, _

_ Heather Potter _

_ Heir Black _

_ Heir Potter _

  
  


_ Aunt Cissa, _

_ I hate to use you as a personal shopper, but I am in dire need of your help.  I find myself in sudden need of a broom and quidditch gear, and completely unable to leave the grounds. I have informed my account manager that you have my permission to make the purchase, so please, act as my proxy in this matter.  If you could send them shrunken, so that no one catches wind of what I’m getting, I would be ever so grateful. Professor Snape would be able to explain any specific needs I might have in this purchase, as I am a novice. _

_ Thank you!   _

_ Heather _

 

She looked over the letters, and nodded, before slipping them in envelopes, and running up to the Owlery to send them.  On her way back down, she ran into Neville, and quickly escorted him to their new study room, just a few doors down from the library.

 

**A few days later, in Wiltshire**

 

Isadora Zabini sat down for tea with Narcissa.  “So, darling, I got a letter from a young lady who seems to know you quite well.” She smirked at her friend, raising an eyebrow.

Narcissa fixed the tea for both of them, before sipping hers with a knowing smile. “I’d guess that this young lady’s last name is Potter?” 

Isadora set down her cup with a quiet click. “So it’s true?” 

Narcissa smirked. “What have you heard? That she’s a first year, sorted into Slytherin, Princess of the court, and friends with both our sons?” 

Isadora blinked rapidly. “I thought it was exaggeration.  She sent me a letter, asking for my solicitor. Offered a debt for it.” 

Narcissa nodded. “Blaise probably told her how good your lawyers are.  What are you going to do?” 

“What? Of course I’ll give it to her.  Make sure you introduce us at yule, it sounds like she’s going to be a force to be reckoned with when she gets older.”  She went back to sipping her tea.

“I don’t know if she’s going to wait until she’s older.” Narcissa murmured.  

Isadora smiled, shark-like. “Oh good.  They could use some shaking up. Maybe she has a need for some.. Personal lessons.” 

Narcissa nodded. “The girl has good instincts, but is almost completely untrained. If you wanted to help with that, it could only be to her benefit.” The fact that it would also be to both of their benefit was left unsaid.

Lucius strolled in and set a box on the table behind Narcissa.  “There’s the equipment you requested, shrunken.” 

Narcissa smiled. “Oh good, Heather will be glad to get it.” 

“Equipment?” Isadora questioned.

“Quidditch gear.  Sev stopped by yesterday evening and told us about it.  This must be kept quiet until the first match, but Heather’s the seeker now.” 

“I’d best write her back, you’re right about her not waiting to graduate to start shaking things up.” Isadora set down her cup, and excused herself to return to her Manor.

Narcissa walked over and leaned into a hug with her husband. “Perfect timing, as usual, dearest.  Excellent work.” 

He preened, returning her hug. “I do try, for you.” They exchanged a gentle kiss, before moving on with their plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all liked this one, too! I was finally able to time skip a little, and the rest of the year should progress quickly. I'm hopeful that next chapter will include Halloween, but no promises, things tend to get away from me.
> 
> Again, thank you all for the kudos and comments, you are amazing!


	17. Tea with Hagrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Heather meets Hagrid for tea, and has two very interesting conversations. Halloween next chapter, everyone was way too chatty.

CHAPTER 17

 

In order to keep Heather’s place on the team secret, she didn’t go to practice with the rest of the team.  Instead, she practiced with Flint, with Millie or Tracey looking on, twice a week at dawn. Flint was still imposing, but the look of respect he gave her for her flying ability had long passed grudging and moved on to just respect. She didn’t know any of the standard seeker moves, but he was quickly teaching her.  Her natural gift for flying helped compensate for her inexperience.

One morning, a few days before Halloween, one of the Hogwarts barn owls dropped a note in front of her at breakfast.  She frowned at it, consideringly, but opened it. An untidy scrawl over the rough parchment invited her to tea with Hagrid.  She glanced up at him, frowning in consideration. “That’s odd,” she whispered. “Why would Hagrid invite me for tea tomorrow evening? I don’t even know him.”

Draco cut in, “You’re not going alone, if you even bother going.” Heather smiled at him fondly, seeing the concern through the arrogant tone.

Heather glanced over the head table, cataloguing their expressions.  The only ones looking at her currently were the Headmaster, Hagrid, and of course Snape.  Dumbledore seemed intent on the letter in her hand, and his eyes were twinkling as he watched her.  Hagrid just looked hopeful, occasionally shooting a glance to the headmaster.  _ It looks like Dumbledore put him up to this. I’d better go, I don’t want his schemes to get more complex, but Draco’s right. I’m not going to that cabin without backup.   _ She pulled out a piece of parchment from her bag, quickly penning an acceptance, and informing Hagrid that she would be bringing a couple of friends.  “Who is going with me?”

The boys exchanged looks, then Draco drawled. “Theo, Millie, and Tracey. He hates my family, and I’m not going to risk the filth that might cling to me if I enter that shack he calls a home.” He sneered, then sipped his tea. 

Heather laughed quietly. “Do you practice that look in the mirror? It’s almost as good as your father’s.” Daphne and Pansy joined her in laughter at the blond, whose face was quickly turning red. 

“Heather!” He sounded annoyed and embarrassed all at once.

oOo

 

Later that afternoon was the meeting for the Defense club assistants.  After a very productive hour discussing the results of the last meeting, plans for the next one, and problem areas, the other six students gathered up their things to leave.  Heather lingered over packing up her things, and drifted up to Quirrell. “Excuse me, professor? I was hoping I could ask you a favor.” 

“A favor, Miss Potter? And what exactly will I get in return?” Rather than the more typical stutter, he was speaking with a lazy drawl.  He looked at her, his eyes flashing red briefly before returning to their normal brown. 

“Um. In return?” She frowned, pulling her bag up on her shoulder and taking a few steps towards the door, obviously uncomfortable. “Well, if it’s too much trouble, then don’t worry about it.”  _ He sounds so familiar.. I swear I’ve heard that before.   _ “I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I just thought that since you’re the defense professor..” 

He watched her curiously, then realized how nervous she looked, and leaned against his desk, crossing his arms across his chest, clearly far from his wand.  “Ah, a defense question. No need for favors, in that case. Well, let’s hear it then.” 

“Can you teach me to cast Protego? I keep trying, but something always goes wrong for me on charms, I’m hopeless at them.” She glared, obviously put out at her own failure.

Quirrell smirked at her. “You’ve had less than two months of classes, and you’re writing off an entire subject? Tsk Tsk, Miss Potter, I thought you had more gumption than that.” 

She turned her glare on her professor. “If you’re just going to tease me, then I can ask someone else.  Maybe Professor Flitwick would be better anyway.” 

He straightened up, frowning. “Never mind that, let me see you try and cast it.” 

She hid her smirk by looking down to pull out her wand. “Protego!”  She called, sweeping her wand through the motion.

He hummed contemplatively.  “And you have trouble with all the charms?  But not transfiguration?” He stepped closer.  She nodded wordlessly. “I see. I think this might be a question of control.  You see, charms require a far more delicate balance of magic than transfiguration.  There, you can compensate by overwhelming the spell with your magic. When it comes to most charms, though... You have to use just the right amount.  Students start with the simple charms, the ones that aren’t particularly sensitive, but Protego? You have to keep the magic flowing at just the right rate, or else you get nothing.  Here, watch.” 

She nodded, and watched as he spoke the incantation, waved his wand, and a golden bubble surrounded him. “Again please?” She carefully eased open her magic sight, being very careful to dampen her sensitivity.  She had been practicing at night, but this was the first time watching someone else’s spellwork while they cast.

As he repeated the incantation and gesture, she could see the magic gathering from his core, rising up to his arm, and flowing down in a calm stream to his wand.  She nodded, her eyes intent. “Protego!” She repeated. This time she watched her own magic, something she still found very difficult, but she could see her magic moving down her arm to her hand in a raging river rapid flow. “Oh!  I can feel the difference. Thank you professor! I’ll practice on my own now.” She smiled at him, blindingly. Quirrell blinked several times, never having seen her smile before. He then nodded, and waved a dismissal at her.

Heather quickly went back to her dorm, just acknowledging her friends before continuing on to privacy.  She was in her mental sitting room as soon as she sat down on her bed. “Marvolo! I got some help on charms, and I think I’ll be able to cast them now!” 

He smiled indulgently. “That’s excellent news. Who helped you? That older boy, Montague?” 

She shook her head, “Nah, it was Quirrell.  He sounded odd, though. Want to see?” He looked intrigued, and joined her in her sewing room at her invitation.  While she couldn’t really lock him out of the room, her memories were hard to read without an invitation. She pulled the memory into existence.  It looked like a small skein of embroidery floss, in a multicolored green. “Huh. I always wonder why things take the shape they do. This one though? It’s just as confusing as he was.” With that, she offered the memory to Marvolo.  He peered into it, watching it play out in front of him.

When he finally looked back up, after watching the memory twice, his eyes were thoughtful.  “I have a couple of thoughts of what might be going on.”

She brightened, “Oh really? So what is it?” 

Marvolo shook his head, walking back into the study.  “I find myself not quite ready to tell you yet. I need to be certain.” He regarded her, and gracefully sank into his chair.  “I need you to write out and deliver a letter to your defense professor.” 

Heather pursed her lips, displeased with his reticence.  “You’re not going to tell me? Not fair, man. Not fair at all.  I didn’t have to show you my memory, I could have just told you about it.” 

He looks up towards the ceiling as if praying for patience, then back at her. “I will tell you, just not yet. I wouldn’t want to tell you a suspicion of mine, then be proven wrong, you’d never believe me again!  Don’t you trust me?” He smiled at her, charmingly.

Heather visibly softened, then straightened her spine. “Of course I trust you!  But I hate secrets. Everyone’s been keeping secrets from me and lying to me for as long as I can remember, and I just... I can’t stand it!” She popped back up to her feet and started pacing. “Don’t you get it? All the time, people tell me things, and none of it’s true! Or they leave out all the important parts! I thought.. I thought you were different.” 

Her shoulders slumped, and she looked over at him.  Her eyes were big and watery, on the verge of tears. Marvolo had a pained expression on his face. “I understand--” As he watched her, he noticed that her lips quirked up in a small smile of victory as he started to speak. “Wait-- Are you playing me? Heather Lyra Potter!” He sounded offended, but he looked proud. 

“More like a little exaggeration, maybe.  I hate that you’re keeping this a secret from me, I want to know! What will I get if I do what you want?”  Her dramatics flipped off like a light switch, and she watched him levelly, sitting back down. 

Marvolo chuckled, the rich chocolate sound filling the room. “You already owe me a favor.  How about, you deliver this letter, and you’ll be halfway paid off. This is just a little thing, so it won’t be the whole favor.” 

Heather considered him, then nodded. “Alright, but once you’re sure, you have to tell me what’s going on.  I don’t want to be lied to again.” Marvolo agreed, pulling over a piece of parchment and a quill to pen a quick letter.

“I know you can’t take this with you, but memorize it and recreate it.” Heather nodded, excited to read what he wrote, until he finally handed it over.

She frowned, then glared at him. “What language is this written in?” 

“Wouldn't you like to know?” He smirked at her, the smugness rolling off of him in waves. 

“You’re impossible.” She huffed, but smiled at him before studying the letter to try and memorize it.  It took three visits to their mental hideaway for her to get it all recorded in the real world. The whole time, Marvolo simply sat in his chair, lost in thought.  “There. I think I’ve got it all now. You know, if you wrote this using a proper alphabet, it wouldn’t have taken me near as long. I haven’t even seen letters like these before. Did you just make it up?”

He seemed distracted, and his voice was soft and musing when he responded, clearly not answering her question.  “Heather... What do you know about--” he cut himself off.

“No, don’t stop there.  What do I know about what?” She eyed him with interest, but kept her face mildly bored. It wouldn't do for him to know exactly how interested she was in finding out where his mind was.

He sighed, and shook his head before looking back at her. “What do you know about Voldemort?” 

She drew back, and blinked rapidly. She answered, out of habits formed over the summer.  “What? Um. Ok. Voldemort. Also known as He-who-must-not-be-named, which is ridiculously silly, but I guess people were... are.. Scared. I supposedly killed him when I was one, also ridiculous. A baby, still in nappies, killing THE Dark Lord? Phsaw.  Anyways, I’ve heard some rumors that he might not be completely gone.” She shook her head, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Everyone says that he was a Dark Lord, but I’m not exactly sure what that means. Maybe he used dark magic and was powerful? But they also keep saying that dark magic is evil magic, and I don’t know much about that. I’ve never felt magic that was good or evil before.” 

“And your parents?” He asked cautiously.

She sighed, looked down at her hands, then back up at him, wistfully. “I would have liked to know them, I think.  But they picked fighting in a war over me. They decided to fight and have a baby. You can only do one of those at a time, if you want to stay safe.  And they didn’t send me somewhere safe, they just kept me, even though they were fighting in a war. They could have fostered me out to America if nowhere in England was safe.  That’s what people in the medieval times did when they had babies and wars at the same time, they sent them somewhere else, far from the fighting! During World War 2, they sent the children to the country, so they wouldn’t be near the bombing.” She sighed again, shoulders hunching. “There are a lot of ways to keep a baby safe.  I dunno why, but they didn’t do any of those things. Either they weren’t very clever, or they let sentiment destroy them. I won’t make the same mistakes.” 

“Aren’t you angry that they were killed?” He cocked his head to the side, clearly confused by her annoyance. “I mean, he murdered them.”

“Is it still murder when you’re fighting in a war? Or is it casualties? If it’s murder, then I guess I’ve already murdered one person.” She shook her head, pushing herself to her feet, walking over to look into the fire, instead of looking at her companion.  “I think there’s plenty of blame to go around. But ... If I ever fight in a war? I’m going to be on birth control. I won’t bring a baby into a world filled with war.” She turned to face him, her face stony. “I might not have a choice about fighting in whatever war is coming, but I have a choice about whether or not I leave a kid parentless.” 

Marvolo looked at her, confusion on his face.  “Are you saying.. You’re angry with your parents, but not with Voldemort?” 

She shrugged, quickly dashing away tears before they had a chance to fall. “I don’t know enough about him really.  Just that he led the other side of the war, is Dark, Slytherin, and killed people who opposed him. My parents had a choice about opposing him or not.  And if they couldn’t resist the fight, they could have sent me somewhere safe, with someone who would l-l-lov--- at least like me.” she turned her face away again, pouting just a little. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” and with that, she disappeared, back to her bed in her dormitory.   _ Why did he have to go asking questions like that? I don’t even want to think about this.  _ Marvolo was lost in thought for the rest of the night, and through the next day.

The next day, after breakfast, but before the first class, Heather dropped by Quirrell’s office to drop off the letter.  He took it from her hand, and paled dramatically at the handwriting. “I-i-i’ll have a response later.” It was the first time he’d stuttered when they were alone together in a month, but Heather just noted his behavior and moved on.

 

oOo

That evening, she knocked on the door to the cottage that looked straight out of a fairy tale, down to the over large pumpkins ripening on the vine.  Millie, Theo, and Tracey flanked her, with varying degrees of nervousness. Theo looked bored, as per usual. He also kept reaching for the book that she knew he kept stashed in his robe pocket.  Tracey looked hesitant, and a little worried about the whole idea. Millie looked as impassive as she usually did when outside the common room. The chill in the air cut through their warm cloaks, and Heather shivered as she listened to a huge dog barking his head off inside the cabin. It sounded enormous, and she edged back from the door.  “Back, Fang! Gerroff, go lay down!” She could hear Hagrid yelling at the dog, as he approached the door. Finally, he pulled it partially open, and the dog made a break for the gap in the door. “No Fang! Sit!” 

The dog ran out of his cabin, and straight for Heather. She yelped and stumbled back several steps.  “No!!” Her magic snapped out of her, briefly flashing golden around her in a bubble. The dog, dripping drool from his mouth, bounced off of her instinctive shield and sat down in front of her, whining. “No!” Heather stumbled back a few more steps, Millie and Theo quickly cutting in between her and the dog.

Hagrid frowned in confusion at their reaction. “He’s frien’ly! Wha’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” Theo spoke up, his voice icy.  “That mongrel of yours nearly flattened Heather! If it hadn’t been for her accidental magic, who knows what might have happened?!” His face was several shades paler than normal, and his wand was clutched in his hand. 

Heather took a deep breath, steeling herself.  “I’m alright. Hagrid... I’m scared of dogs, and he’s so big... Can we just.. Meet out here, and he can stay in the cabin or something?” Her voice was small and nervous sounding.  She glanced up at him, then back down quickly.  _ That mutt is terrifying, but I can’t just leave yet, I’m already here. _

Hagrid frowned at her, clearly trying to think it through. “Naw, all the tea things are inside.”  Heather slumped, looking down. “I could... I could put him out wit the hippogryffs, until we’ve had our tea?” 

Heather straightened back up and smiled at him, gently. “That’s very kind of you, but if it’s too much trouble, we can just head back to the castle.” 

Eventually, they were all settled in at the table, and made awkward small talk for several minutes, while drinking oversteeped tea.  Searching for new topics of conversation, Tracey noted a Daily Prophet on the table. “Oh, did you see this, Heather? Someone actually broke into Gringotts!” Heather leaned over to look at the article.

“I was at Gringotts that day! I can’t imagine how someone could sneak past those Goblins, they’re fierce.  Hagrid, weren’t you there that day?” 

“Oh yes, on important Hogwarts business!  Albus Dumbledore himself asked me to do him a favor.” He looked chuffed at the importance of his task.  “Safest place in England, after Gringotts, is Hogwarts.” 

Theo cut in, “Do you mean that the Headmaster is storing something valuable at Hogwarts?” 

Tracey jumped back in, “I bet it’s in the third floor corridor.  I wonder what it could be!” Heather watched Hagrid carefully, seeing the flush rising in his face.  She gathered herself, preparing to make a quick exit.

“Now, you kids need to stay outta this, all that’s between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, and you shouldn’t be stickin’ yer noses anywhere near it.”

“Flamel?” Heather questioned.

Hagrid groaned and rubbed his face with a gigantic hand. “I should not of said that... Should not of said that... You kids, g’wan now, it’s near enough curfew.” 

Heather leapt to her feet, and made a break for the door.  The others followed her quickly. “Bye Hagrid! Thanks for the tea.” He nodded morosely, staring into his teacup.

As they walked back to the castle, they discussed what they had been told. “That was strange, overall.  And that Fang seems dangerous.” Heather sniffed, displeased. “Why would he tell us all that stuff? I heard him in Gringotts that day, asking loudly for the item in that vault that was burgled.  Why would the Headmaster send someone so... obvious?” 

The others nodded, but Theo was the one to respond. “Unless he wanted everyone to know?” 

“Who is Nicholas Flamel?” Heather asked.

Millie answered quietly, “He’s a famous alchemist.  He wrote some papers about Dragonblood with Dumbledore, back in the 1930s. He’s most famous for creating the philosopher’s stone.” 

“Wait, that’s real?” Heather’s eyes were huge as she stopped walking to stare at the taller girl.  “Does it change lead into gold and grant immortality?” 

Theo stared at her, eyes even bigger. “How do you know all that?” 

“There’s all sorts of muggle legends about it!” Heather was just as stunned as the pureblood, but she started moving towards the castle again.  “Something that valuable, and they’re storing it in a school corridor. Every time I think that I understand wizards, they do something else that makes no sense.  It’s like he’s inviting the thief to come here! Who invites a thief into a building full of children?? Even if he’s not inviting in that Gringotts burglar, that stone is a priceless artifact.” She stopped again, and looked at her people.  “Make sure everyone knows, we’re not getting involved in this mess. Stay away from that hallway, and keep an eye on the headmaster when he’s around us. I don’t trust him.” The last sentence was whispered, but they all nodded, hearing her loud and clear. 

“I’ve got no interest in searching out whatever games the old man is playing,” Theo sniffed. “I plan on getting all O’s in my classes, I don’t have time to mess around.  My grandfather would never forgive me for slacking on my schoolwork.” 

Tracey shivered, “I wouldn’t want your grandfather mad at me, that’s for sure.” Millie nodded in silent agreement, and the quartet made their way back into the building at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! This time we got both Quirrellmort and Marvolo in the same chapter. They're dancing closer and closer together.


	18. Halloween!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween is here!

Chapter 18

 

Heather glanced around her history class, glad to see that the mixed Hufflepuff/Slytherin class was mostly dozing.   _ Today is the perfect day for the next test of my magic.  I need to know what it does to those who aren’t my friends, or potential allies.  _ She slowly started unspooling her magic, allowing it to slip down to the ground and ease it’s way around the room.  She kept the tendrils thin, just the barest amount of magic, and restricted to the student portion of the room. Immediately, those Slytherins closest to her showed their normal reactions.  They leaned a little closer, their spines relaxed, and small smiles grew on their faces. Draco showed the strongest reaction, followed closely by Theo. Heather watched the Hufflepuffs, ready to take notes on their reactions.  Susan Bones glanced over with a small frown, and edged her chair a little further away. Hannah Abbott, the sweet blond girl with pigtail braids, looked a little puzzled, but continued writing in her journal and ignoring Binns. Zacharias Smith, the snobby ‘Puff who claimed relation to Helga Hufflepuff, started fidgeting in place and looking like he wanted to dart out the door.  Finch-Fletchley, the muggleborn, reacted more like her Slytherins, leaning in, a smile on his face. His eyes were even slightly glazed. 

Heather noted all of this down, while being careful to keep her magic away from the ghost in front of them.  After making a note of their reactions, she pulled her magic back in completely. The class returned to its somnolent state.  She thought over everything she’d witnessed, and looked down at her list.  _ I still don’t know enough about this power to figure out exactly why the people who don’t like my magic dislike it.  It seems like people who I would never be friends with dislike it, but why some more strongly than others? And there are plenty in Slytherin who I don’t care for that like my magic.  Maybe that means that they could be useful? But Susan Bones, Pansy told me that her aunt is the head of law enforcement. She could be incredibly useful if she liked me. But if she doesn’t like my magic, maybe that means that we can’t ever be friends?  _ She shook her head, staring back down at her notes, then looking up at the blackboards blindly.  _ I’m going to have to go to the Library and look up those bloodline gifts like Blaise suggested.   _

oOo

After classes finished that day, Heather managed to reduce her entourage to just Theo as she escaped to the library.  Not wanting to look like she was up to anything, they strolled through the halls, chatting idly about their recent potions assignment.  Once they were in the library, Theo was able to direct her to the small section near the restricted section that covered bloodline gifts.  She pulled down a book entitled  _ Gifts Given in Blood, an overview  _ by Gavin Yaxley.  Theo pulled out his homework, as they settled at an out of the way table near a stained glass window.  Heather immediately began skimming the book, taking notes as she went. 

\---------------------------------------------

_ Bloodline gifts are a curious thing. While some breed true for generations, others lie fallow in a family for a century before recurring.  There is no known reason for this, but speculation remains. Some think that only the most worthy, the ones the ancestors would be most pleased with, are the ones to receive the gifts.  Others believe that impure blood will seal a gift for generations, until the taint has washed away. No one truly knows, however, because family magics are a closely guarded secret. While it is no secret that Slytherin’s line is known for speaking the language of snakes, and the Malfoys for their sensitivity to magic, the gifts of the Longbottom line are a closely held secret.  The Blacks are known for madness, yes, but more importantly, they are known for their talent with transfiguration, being the only bloodline known to possess metamorphmagus gifts. It is rumored that the Prince line is not only gifted with potions, but also spell crafting. The Peverell line is rumored to birth natural necromancers, but as that line died out centuries prior, it’s unknown what truth lies in the rumor.  The Potter line is gifted with enchanting items.  _

_ There are certain rare gifts that are known to appear in almost any bloodline, but only by a sufficiently talented witch or wizard.  These gifts are still considered bloodline gifts, as all magic users owe their gifts to Lady Hecate, Mother Magic. As we are all kin, it seems reasonable to assume that some gifts can occur anywhere.  One of the most common is Mage Sight. This differs from sensitivity in that while a sensitive can tell what is being cast around them, one with Mage Sight can see it, and on occasion, manipulate it. They are generally very good at warding and curse breaking, as they can see the magic surrounding an object.   _

 

_ \--------------------------------------- _

 

Heather closed the book gently, and looked off into the distance as she considered what she read.  She spoke quietly to Theo, “I have only one question left that this book didn’t answer for me.” He tilted his head, inquisitively.  “I’m trying to figure out why some people react poorly to my magic, when all of my closest friends seem to enjoy it.” 

Theo quirked a grin, before sobering and nodding. “Of course, you wouldn’t know.  Who hates your magic? Let me guess a few names. I felt it in History today, so you must have tried it there.  Susan Bones must dislike it. Probably Zacharias Smith too.” 

Heather’s eyes got big as she stared at him. “Yes, exactly! Why don’t they like it? Neville does, and he’s a Gryffindor, so it can’t be just a House thing.” 

He nodded, “You’re right, it’s not a House thing.  It’s your magical core. I’d bet your core is Dark.  We all know that Bones and Smith are Light. We don’t have any Light cores in Slytherin right now, the lightest we have are more of a grey.” 

Heather nodded, frowning slightly. “People talk a lot about how Dark magic is evil.” She looked displeased with the thought.  

He sighed, shaking his head. “That’s Light propaganda.  After the last two Dark Lords lost, there’s been no leadership on the our side.  Look, I’ve got a book in my trunk about the differences between Light and Dark. Really, it’s not so much good and evil as it is Order and Chaos.  Some are just more suited to one than the other. It’s hard to be friends with someone whose philosophy is that different from your own. Most Muggleborns are Grey when they start, but with the heavily Light curriculum here, they almost all graduate as Light wizards.  The traditionally Dark families work hard to preserve their nature, which means we all do a lot of practice over the hols.” Heather nodded slowly, and reshelved the book she had been looking at.

“That makes sense, thanks, Theo.  I’ll definitely read that book. Is there a spell to see what color someone’s core is?” 

He wiggled his hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. “It doesn’t always work, and it’s flashy, but there is a spell for it.” She nodded, and the pair headed back to the dungeons.

 

oOo

 

The next day dawned, and with it, excitement. The whole castle was buzzing with chatter and high spirits.  Heather looked around, confused, then to Pansy. “What is going on today?” She was certain that the resident gossip queen would know, if anyone.

Pansy sighed and shook her head. “Seriously, you have got to look at a calendar, and not just your homework planner.  It’s Halloween, everyone’s worked up over the candy feast tonight. It’s rumored that there’s no real food on offer, just chocolates and sweets.” 

Heather frowned, disapprovingly. “Halloween? Why are we celebrating that?  I didn’t know that you celebrated muggle holidays.” 

Draco sighed and shook his head, looking quite put out. “We don’t, but because of those mudbl--” Heather raised a hand to stop him.

“There will be no racist language around me, Draco.” Her voice was frosty, but steady. “So you celebrate.. What? Samhain?” She pronounced it Sow-in.

All of her court stopped and turned to her, their eyes big. Blaise drawled, “I thought you were muggle raised? Who taught you about our holidays?” 

She looked at him puzzled. “Your holidays? So ... the books were correct? I just learned from some books in the public library near my house. It felt right, so I quit pretending to be Christian, and celebrated the pagan holidays instead.” 

The young slytherins exchanged looks of wonder, and Draco continued. “Well, I’m not sure what those muggles know about our holidays, but our main celebrations are Samhain, Beltaine, and the solstices.  Some of the more devout also celebrate Imbolc, Lughnasa, and the fall and spring equinoxes.”

“And how exactly did the muggleborns get rid of our holidays?” She still looked annoyed, and crossed her arms over her chest.  The entire group of them was stopped in the dungeons on the way to the great hall for breakfast.

“I’m.. not really sure, but that’s what Father said when I talked to him about how to celebrate at school.” Draco looked put out, and not used to being questioned on the facts.

“Fine, I’ll ask him, then.” She started walking again, and her crew fell in beside and behind her.

“Heather.. You should know.  There are a lot of celebrations today in your name too.  They throw Girl Who lived parties, to celebrate the defeat of the Dark Lord and the end of the last war.” Tracey’s voice sounded hesitant, but as always she was willing to say what the others were too nervous to admit.

Heather paused midstep and slumped. “That is ridiculous.” She took a deep breath, and nodded appreciation to the brown haired girl on her left.  “Thank you.” She muttered under her breath as she continued walking, “Like I could have done anything, I was a baby! Stupid wizards.” 

Tracey continued quietly, “If you’re sad about your parents, or you want to mourn, we could cover for you.” 

Heather shook her head. “I never really knew them, they’re.. Kinda more like an idea than anything else.  I honor them, because they’re my parents, but.. I’m not going to set aside a whole day.” 

They walked into the Great hall in a clump like normal, and Heather waved to Neville as they headed to their seats at the center of the underclassmen section.  Once they were situated, Heather turned back to Pansy. “Pansy, I need you to start gathering a bit of information on a few people for me. Finch-Fletchley and Abbott, with the Hufflepuffs, to be precise.” 

Pansy tilted her head, puzzled, but nodded. “Alright. I should have everything by this afternoon, they’re just first years.” Heather smiled at her, very pleased, and Pansy returned it, slightly dazzled. 

The rest of the day passed in an over excited haze.  The more muggle Halloween decorations Heather saw, the more she frowned, disappointed and annoyed.  The chatter about candy treats was everywhere. All she could think about were her normal Samhain traditions.  Rather than automatically celebrating on Halloween, she celebrated halfway between the fall equinox and the winter solstice. This year, that day would be November 7th.  At home, she shut herself in her room until it was time to prepare dinner, and spent the day in quiet contemplation. Her portion of dinner was then split between two plates, one for her, and one for the dead.  She always honored her parents, despite thinking they had been killed by drunk driving. 

She glared at the carved pumpkins and flickering bats decorating the hall. “This is ridiculous.” 

Draco nodded, pouty. “My Father has been trying to get this changed since he got on the board, but no one will stand up to Dumbledore over something so minor. It isn’t minor!” He huffed, and collapsed into his spot.  Heather nodded, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

“I celebrate on November 7th this year.  If any of you would like to join my ritual, you are welcome to do so.  I’d like to see the differences between what I have worked out for myself, and what the traditions are.” 

The group nodded, brightening. Daphne spoke, her voice modulated carefully, “I’ve got a book you may enjoy, that includes several of the Old Rites. If you’d like, you may borrow it.” Theo’s eyes widened, realizing what book she was offering. “Of course, you’ll have to keep it to the dorm, it’s not exactly something for public consumption.” She smiled, a sharp and cutting smirk.

Heather returned it, and nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Daphne. I’d like to look it over this evening, if that’s alright with you.” That settled, they looked over the feast offerings.  Unlike at the Gryffindor table, they did not just have sweets available. The Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins had bowls of roasted meat, pitchers of apple juice, fresh cut apples, and bowls of cooked grains.  It looked like a traditional harvest fest, in addition to the piles of sweets littering the table.

Heather glanced over at the Gryffindor table, and noticed that all they had were the sweets. Pansy noticed the direction of her glance and nodded, “Yes, Professors Snape and Sprout make sure that their houses have something traditional and filling.  McGonagall and Flitwick just let Dumbledore set the menu like always. Make sure you don’t just eat candy,” her eyes flicked to Crabbe and Goyle, who slouched, before serving themselves a small portion of meat. “Professor Snape will make you regret it if you gorge yourself and get sick.” 

Montague laughed, “Yeah, last year it was Cassius.  He ate nothing all day, then ate enough sweets to sink a ship.  He was so green! Professor Snape refused to give him an anti nausea potion, and wouldn’t let him go to the hospital wing.  Said he had to learn moderation from experience.” Heather grinned, and glanced down the table to her once rival. He had a caramel covered apple on his plate, but the majority of the space was taken by a healthy dinner.  She grinned at him. He started to glare, then looked at his plate, and back to her. He shook his head and laughed, shrugging. 

“Graham told you the story? Not ever doing that again!” He took a sip of his juice, before turning back to conversation with his yearmates.  

Heather murmured, “He might be willing to join me soon.  I like someone who can laugh at their own mistakes, it shows maturity.” 

Graham nodded. “He’s a pretty good guy, once he’s been knocked down a couple times.  Just needs to be shown what’s what directly.” Heather nodded, consideringly. 

The group continued in idle conversation, until the meal was halfway over.  The doors at the end of the hall burst open, slamming against the walls, an echoing crash startling the whole room into silence.  Quirrell, his turban still tightly wound around his head, ran into the room, panic clear on his face. “T-T-TROLL!! In the dungeons, thought you ought to know.” And he collapsed, face first on the ground in between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, halfway to the Head table.  

Panic washed over the hall, as students started screaming, getting up from their tables, and trying to figure out what to do at top volume.  Heather sat quietly at her table, watching Quirrell with a frown on her face. Her group exclaimed over the interruption, but remained seated with her.  Dumbledore rose slowly to his feet, and shot several fireworks into the air. The echoing noise silenced the hall, and all faces turned towards him. “Prefects, return the students to their dormitories.”

Draco panicked, standing up at last to shout, “But our dormitories are IN THE DUNGEONS!!” He looked like he was on the verge of hyperventilating, so Heather grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back down into his seat. 

“Breathe, Draco.  I’m sure there’s a good reason for the Headmaster to send half the school towards a known threat.” Her voice was loud enough to carry over the quiet chaos of the various prefects gathering their houses.  She looked over at the Hufflepuffs, then back to Professor Sprout. “Is it really safe for the two houses who live in the basements and the dungeons to head back now?” 

Professor Sprout exchanged a look with Severus, then looked at Dumbledore. “Quite right, young lady! Headmaster, surely it’s best to keep the children here, while we go investigate?” 

Dumbledore nodded, beneficently. “Of course, my dear. Children, return to your seats.  Professor Quirrell can remain here and guard the doors.” He looked down at the collapsed professor in the aisle, “while the rest of us venture out to find this troll.” He immediately turned and headed to the teacher’s exit on the side of the room.  He was followed by the rest of the professors, excepting Quirrell. 

“Seriously? He left an unconscious teacher as our guard? This place.” Heather looked over at where Quirrell was, only to see he was nowhere in sight. “Wait! Where did he go?” Her eyes got large and nervous.

Draco drawled, content now that he was to stay in the hall, “What does it matter, he’s pretty well useless.” The rest of the group nodded, and returned to their conversations.  The only table that still seemed worked up was the Gryffindor one. The entire atmosphere was more like a party than anything else, now. 

Heather stood up and made her excuses, “I’ll be right back, just checking in on Neville.” 

Draco rolled his eyes, “Is he your pet, then?” 

Heather scoffed, “Not a pet, but he is mine.  I’d check up on you if your table was that rowdy.  Of course, you sit in better company.” She smirked, and made her way across the hall quickly.  Many other students were visiting friends from other houses, so her progress was ignored.

Once she got to the Gryffindor table, she looked around and frowned. “Where’s Neville?  Did Weasley do something to him?” Weasley, Granger, and Neville were all missing from the first years section.  

A dark skinned girl of Indian descent, one of the twins sorted into different houses answered. “Granger’s been in the bathroom on the third floor all day.  Neville found out, and when no one was looking, dragged Ron off to make him apologize and get her here for safety.” She looked slightly impressed. 

“He didn’t just tell his head of house?” Heather gritted her teeth, and nodded. “Thanks, Patel, right?” The other girl nodded, pleased that she was recognized.

Heather looked around, then sighed.   _ Probably best if I go alone, too. Most of the Slytherins value self preservation too much to venture out there if a troll is running around.  At least, not without too much convincing. But.. Neville. I can’t let him get eaten.  _ She drifted across the room, quietly using her magic to make herself less interesting, until finally she reached the teacher’s exit.  Glancing one more time, she grabbed the door knob, and left. As soon as it was shut behind her, she started running. She dashed up the two flights of stairs, and down the corridor.  As soon as she rounded the corner, she heard screaming and a crashing sound like broken porcelain. She doubled her speed, sliding the last few steps to the open door. Inside, she saw the troll.  It was at least ten feet tall, and it’s head too small for it’s enormous body. His skin was greyish green, and it looked like moss was growing on him or his leather clothing. It wasn’t really clothing, though, more like a vest and a loincloth roughly pieced out of leather.  He held a club, at least five feet long, and it looked like a huge, gnarled tree branch. Granger was laying on the ground, her leg clearly broken and bleeding. Weasley was pointing his wand at the club, his hand shaking too badly to cast anything. His face was paler than she had ever seen it, and he looked on the verge of passing out.  His eyes kept flicking to the growing pool of blood under Granger’s leg. Neville was lying unconscious, his wand snapped next to him. He had been thrown into the wall so hard that there were broken tiles and a huge dent in the wall.

Heather looked down the hall once for help, but didn’t hear anyone else approaching.  The troll raised his club for another swing at Hermione. She lost control of her magic in her fear, letting it quickly spill out of her core.  She pulled her wand, and yelled, “HEY!! What do you think you’re doing?!” The troll spun to look at her, stumbling a few feet in his confusion at the new person.  

Heather thought quickly, trying to come up with something she could cast that could get through the thick skin of a troll. Confidently, she swish and flicked and yelled, “Wingardium Leviosa!” Just like in class earlier that day, absolutely nothing happened.  The troll lumbered towards her, swinging his club back and forth, crashing the remaining stall into splinters. She stumbled backwards quickly.  _ Oh shit, that didn’t work!  Wait, in the Hobbit, trolls turn to stone in the sunlight!  _ Heather stopped retreating and gestured for Ron to try and slip out behind her. “Look at me! Don’t worry about them!” She yelled to the troll, who was starting to look back towards the injured boy beside him. Ron tried to get to his feet, stumbling several times before slipping and sliding his way to Hermione, the opposite direction as the door. Heather shoved her wand up as high as she could reach and screamed, “LUMOS!!” Instantly, the room was thrown into stark relief as the tip of her wand shone with the brilliance of the sun.  The troll stumbled back several steps, covering his eyes and bellowing in pain. Thinking quickly, Heather dropped the lumos, and cast the Tripping jinx at the troll’s feet. It crashed backwards, slamming its head into the wall. The room echoed with the crash, and dust fell from the ceiling. The troll didn’t get back up. Heather looked around, her hand shaking hard enough that she almost dropped her wand. “Weasley! Is she ok??” She ran over to check on Neville. 

“She-she’s bleeding pretty bad!” He reached out to touch her, but before he could make contact, his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed.  Heather looked at Neville, gently touching his shoulder.

“C’mon Neville, wake up! We’ve got to get out of here, before--” The door to the bathroom slammed open again, this time filled with adults.

McGonagall gasped, and ran to Hermione’s side.  “What happened?!” 

Heather quickly examined the adults, noticing how angry they all looked, except for Quirrell, who plopped down on a bucket on the verge of a panic attack.  Dumbledore walked over to the troll, examining it. “It’s just knocked out. Who did this?” 

Professor Snape walked over to Heather and Neville, giving her a cursory glance before checking on the Gryffindor. “Headmaster, I think it would be best to continue this in the hospital wing.  Miss Granger looks like she has a serious injury, and Mr. Longbottom is still knocked out.” With a spare gesture, he summoned three stretchers. “I’m assuming that you can walk, Miss Potter?” He sneered.  Professor Flitwick entered the room at that point, and without even using his wand, bound the troll tightly. The large party made their way to the white walls of the hospital wing in short order. 

Madam Pomfrey shooed everyone out of the way, and quickly had Hermione’s leg bound, and Neville and Ron conscious again.  Heather refused the calming draught, but Ron took it immediately. His hands were still shaking, and he was looking at Heather with a flabbergasted expression.

The only teachers remaining were McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore.  She stepped to the front and asked, “Exactly what happened? The four of you should never have been away from the Great Hall!” 

Heather took a deep breath and looked down, letting her eyes fill with tears.  “I’m so sorry! Neville is my friend, and when I heard that he’d gone to find Granger, with only Weasley for back up, I just.. I couldn’t help myself.  All the teachers had left, so I ran to try and find you.” She let the tears slip down her face, shooting a quick glance up at the professors, and then back to her hands that were twisting around each other. “At a muggle school, I would have called the office, but there aren’t any phones here, and I don’t know any spells that let you call someone, so I just went looking.  I heard screaming, and I ran to help. I know that trolls turn to stone in the sunlight, so I figured maybe a Lumos would stun him. It didn’t exactly work..” 

McGonagall cut in, “Who told you that? Trolls most certainly do NOT turn to stone, unless they’re petrified. You used Lumos?  What else?” She sounded baffled.

Heather paled, and it was only half an act. “They don’t?? But I read in the Hobbit--” 

Professor Snape sneered, cutting her off, “It is never wise to take advice from muggle fiction.” 

McGonagall turned even whiter, collapsing into a chair, and Heather continued. “I’ll do better next time.  I cast the lumos, and it seemed like it was blinded, and stumbled back. Then I tripped it.” 

Dumbledore broke into the discussion. “Unorthodox, but you seem to have saved your schoolmates from a great deal of trouble.” His eyes were twinkling brightly when Heather chanced a glance at him.  “I believe that given the circumstances, no points will be deducted for this adventure.” 

Snape glared at Heather, and she quickly looked down, knowing that retribution would come from her head of house, even if she had managed to skate by the headmaster. “You will see me in my office before you join your housemates this evening, Miss Potter.” His voice was cold.  Heather nodded mutely, wilting under his disapproval.

“Now, Severus, my boy, there’s no need to be angry, look, everyone is fine! I’m sure that Miss Granger will be healed up by morning. A small bit of heroics is natural in a girl from a Gryffindor line, even if she is a Slytherin now.” Dumbledore petted his beard, quite pleased. “As I was saying, well done, Miss Potter.” And he turned, taking himself and the other professors out. 

Madame Pomfrey entered as soon as they had left. “Heather will be able to leave in an hour.  Miss Granger and you two will be here at least through tomorrow morning, if not the next day.” They all nodded obediently.

Once they were alone again, Heather whispered to Neville, “Never ever do that again.  Get a teacher! They were all still there when you ran off. Or tell me, and I’ll get someone.” 

He nodded, chastened, and Ron broke in, “Why did you save us? We’re not even friends!” 

Heather looked at him, completely confused. “Why wouldn’t I help you? I was already there to help Neville, I wouldn’t just leave you to be murdered!” 

Ron fell back against his pillows, and rubbed his forehead. “You’re nothing like what I thought.” 

Heather rolled her eyes and looked to Neville.  “Get some sleep, yeah? I’ll let the others know you’re ok.” She slipped out of the infirmary as quickly as she was allowed, while the boys and Granger slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, all the kudos, and all the comments. <3 <3 <3 I hope you liked my take on the Halloween Drama, plus the new info about bloodline gifts.


	19. Post Halloween Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions have consequences, and Heather soon discovers the fallout from her impulsive heroics.

CHAPTER 19 

 

Heather knocked on the door to Snape’s office, dread coiling in her stomach.  She knew better than to try and avoid him, though. Before she even lowered her fist, she heard his voice, “Enter, Miss Potter.”  She opened the door, and slipped in, her eyes skittering over him quickly before returning to the spot on the ground right in front of her toes.  She held her hands at her side, and her whole body was so tightly strung with nervousness that she was almost vibrating. She had heard stories about other boarding schools that caned students.  Hogwarts didn’t seem like that sort of place, but neither did the Dursleys.

Severus looked her over, and quickly realized how frightened she was.  He glanced over to the door she had left ajar behind her, then back at her.  “Sit down, Miss Potter, I’m not going to beat you.” He sneered, and gestured her to an uncomfortable wooden chair directly beside her.

She risked another look at him, then a glance around.  His office was small, with a desk dominating the space.  The old fashioned heavy wooden desk was scarred, but sturdy.  On top, there were stacks of parchment, along with a red ink pot and several quills.  Behind the desk the whole wall was covered in bookshelves, but there were only books on the lower half of shelves. The top shelves were filled with jars of floating animal parts.  Her professor looked very stern, but he didn’t seem to be angry, and his hands were relaxed on his desk. As soon as he noticed her reaction, he had loosened his shoulders and leaned back in his chair a little.  He flicked his hand towards the door, and it gently shut behind her. He then flicked his wand upwards in a gesture Heather had never seen before. “This will grant us some privacy from the Headmaster and anyone else who might be walking around after curfew.” She nodded, warily. She slowly started unspooling her magic, hoping to get a feel for his emotions.  

Severus could feel the air becoming charged, but his face remained impassive.  “Now that he cannot hear us, please enlighten me as to the true story of what occurred this evening.  That tripe you fed the headmaster...” He shook his head. “We both know that’s not what happened.” 

She sighed, and glanced away, then back to him. Her magic explored his aura, and she could feel some of his emotions, despite his normal reticence.  She could feel annoyance, frustration, and concern? It wasn’t something she had felt frequently, and her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “I suppose it wasn’t ... exactly... what happened, but it was really close.” She felt amusement flare, and was even more confused.  None of the emotions she could sense were visible on his face.

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Today, child. And I’m not certain what exactly your magic is doing, but I would expect more control.  You are eleven, not five.” 

Her eyes widened, and she yanked her magic back in. “S-sorry. I didn’t know it was bothering you.” 

He smirked, “You didn’t think I would notice.  A word of advice... Powerful magic, when it’s not carefully and subtly wielded, can be felt by almost any witch or wizard.  Yours carries with it a scent. Or perhaps, the memory of a scent. Now, explain.” He gave her a severe look.

Heather looked down, penitentially. “I’m sorry, sir. I noticed Neville was missing, along with Weasley and Granger.  The Gryffindors told me where they were going. When I looked around, I didn’t see anyone nearby. The troll was supposed to be in the basement, and they were up on the third floor, so I figured it would be pretty safe.  The dungeons are twisty, and trolls aren’t smart.” Suddenly she looked worried, “That’s not just a muggle fantasy thing, is it?” 

He shook his head, leaning back slightly in his chair, steepling his hands in front of his chin. “No, that is correct.  Trolls are incredibly dim, have poor eyesight, and thick hides.”

She smiled, then sobered quickly, “Oh good. Well, I thought it would get lost, so I figured if I ran really fast I could get to Neville and get him somewhere safe.” 

His lips quirked in what was almost a smile, before he drawled, “and what about Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley?” 

She shrugged a shoulder. “They were with him, so I figured I had to help them too.  You can’t just go letting trolls smash people right in front of you.” 

“And why didn’t you just tell a prefect?” He watched her closely as she shifted in her chair and looked away for the first time in several minutes.  “The truth, Miss Potter.” 

She sighed deeply, looked down, then back to him. “I didn’t think I could get anyone to believe me fast enough to get there while it was still supposedly low risk.  If I had known the troll was just wandering all over the school, I wouldn’t have dared leave. No matter who was in danger!” She shivered, and hugged herself tightly. “I am sorry that I got caught up there.  I really didn’t want all that to happen.” She slumped, her posture looking less than perfect for the first time.

Severus sighed. “Do you even know why I’m upset with you?” She shook her head wordlessly, so he continued. “First, you put yourself in danger.  You are eleven, saving a classmate is never your responsibility. Second, you didn’t rely on your court for help. You are the Princess, and you robbed your entire court of the chance to help you.  You made Slytherin House look like they don’t support you. Third, you have drawn even more attention from the Headmaster to yourself. I know what Lucius is working on, and the more that man is paying attention to you the more trouble he will have.” 

Heather looked up at him, her eyes getting impossibly large, and her skin paling even more.  “Oh.”

“Yes, Oh. You will have a lot of work ahead of you to improve your relations with most of the house.  And you will have to learn how to keep your head down.” He sighed, leaning forward with a slight wince. “Heather, I want the best for you, but if you don’t stop playing like a reckless Gryffindor, and act like the Slytherin I know you can be, then I don’t know how I can help you.” He shook his head again, and sighed. “You will be washing cauldrons every Saturday and Sunday before breakfast, for the next 8 weeks.  If by some miracle you complete the cauldrons early, you will be preparing ingredients. Go, return to your dorm.” 

Heather quickly made her way out and back to the Common Room, much chastened.  She hadn’t even considered most of the things he mentioned, and it was annoying her that she had managed to miss so much in her evaluation of the situation.  Once she slipped through the door, everyone’s eyes snapped to her. For the first time in a week, every single expression was closed off and cold. Her court was gathered in their normal spot, but after a quick look over her to make sure that she was in one piece, they retreated to the dorms.  The older students simply turned back to their conversations, purposefully ignoring her. Heather ignored the pang her heart gave when they shut her out, and made her way back to her room, locking the door as soon as she was able.

She collapsed dramatically onto her bed and sighed. “I guess I better face the music.  If the professor was mad.. Marvolo is going to be spitting nails.” She looked off to the side, then firmed up her spine, set her shoulders, and concentrated on entering her mindscape.  She appeared where she usually did, just behind the pair of chairs facing the fireplace. Marvolo was sitting in his chair, a book in his lap, but he looked on edge. 

“Heather, what’s going on?  You look upset.” He eyed her, closing the book.  She stomped around the chair and collapsed in it, crossing her arms across her chest defensively, jutting her chin out stubbornly.

“I’ll tell, but can we skip the lecture? I’ve already gotten one tonight.” He raised an eyebrow, leaned back in his chair, and gestured for her to continue.  “A troll got into Hogwarts. Into the dungeons, supposedly, and they eventually decided that we could all just wait in the Great Hall. Well... I found out the Neville and that Weasley boy went after Granger, who was crying in the girls loo on the third floor. I went to go get him back.  I figured that no one would be willing to go with me, without a bunch of arguing, and there weren’t any teachers there, soooo....” 

Marvolo buried his face in his hands. “So you went after your wayward lion.  And let me guess.. You found the troll?” She nodded sulkily. “And what happened then?” 

She sighed, shrinking into her chair, blushing with the first embarrassment she’d shown. “I tried levitating his club, but I still can’t make that charm work.  So.. I..” she looked down, then mumbled quickly, “I thought trolls turned to stone in the sun so I cast lumos really brightly.” Her face was crimson as she studiously looked away.  She heard a muffled snort, but refused to look at him. “It must have blinded him, and so then I tripped him. He busted his head on the wall, and got knocked out. Neville was unconscious and Granger was bleeding with a broken leg.  Weasley--”

“I truly do not care about the state of your classmates,” he interrupted. “Who lectured you? The headmaster? That was incredibly foolish.  You could have easily gotten a prefect to fetch the missing children.” 

She sighed, looking back to him. “No, worse.  The headmaster was proud of me. He didn’t take away any points or give any detentions.  Professor Snape was really mad, though. He’s got me cleaning cauldrons before breakfast every weekend for two months.” 

“He was proud?  Of course...” Marvolo nodded to himself, running his hand through his hair.  “You’re going to have to be more careful, girl. If you’re not, you won’t win a game against that man.  He’s been doing this longer than any of us have been alive, and being an impulsive child is exactly what he’s expecting from you now.  You have to be what he doesn’t expect.” 

Heather nodded, consideringly. “Oh.  Can we use that against him? Like, project the perfect reckless fool, then actually be doing other things?” 

He considered it. “Perhaps.  The issue is that being reckless is unacceptable.  You have more than just you to consider. I am a guest here, with nowhere else to go, and you have endangered my life, too.”  

Heather slouched again, pulling her feet up onto the chair so she could hide her face. “I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t think the troll would ever go that high, I thought it was stuck in the dungeons.  I wouldn’t’ve risked our lives on purpose.” She turned her head to the side so that she could watch the fire, and willed a tea service into existence on the table between them. “Have you ever thought about .. finding a body or something? Living in the brain of a girl can’t be what you wanted to do with your life. You were a person, right? Before you got locked up in that circle in my mind?” 

She heard him fixing two cups of tea, and accepted the cup that was pressed against her folded hands, lowering her legs and looking back at her companion.  “I have considered options on removing myself. I’ll likely need some help from you, if you’re willing...” 

She smiled at him. “Of course I’d help you.”

“And yes, darling girl, I am a person, not some spirit.” He sighed, sipping his tea and gazing thoughtfully into the fire.

“Who were you?”  She didn’t look at him, instead fiddling with her tea cup, aligning the handle perfectly with the edge of the small table, then the spoon perpendicular. The awkwardness she felt at outright asking the question clear in her body language.

He shook his head. “I’ll tell you soon, but right now you need to sleep.  The morning will come quickly.” Heather sighed, but nodded, accepting his delay.

 

oOo

The next morning, when she entered the Common Room, and for the first time since she became Princess the older students sneered at her before turning away.  Her court was gathered in their normal spot, but there were no welcoming smiles this morning. The only two who bothered to nod a greeting were Tracey and Millie. Heather sighed, and sat down.  “Look, I understand that you’re all upset with me, and I am sorry for that. If you’d rather take a step out of my court, you’re welcome to do so, but changing your mind will be difficult after this.” She looked at each one of them.  “I’m going to make choices, and you may not like them, but you can either accept it, or move along.” She looked away, jutting her jaw out stubbornly.

Draco let out an explosive sigh, and met her eyes for the first time that morning.  “Do you even know why we’re upset?” 

She cocked her head, puzzled by his question.  “You’re all upset because I didn’t ask anyone to go with me last night, and because I rescued some idiot Gryffindors.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Seriously? No. We’re upset because you went off on your own and you could have been killed!” 

She stared at him, then checked the rest of their faces, obviously confused. “That’s why you’re upset? You were.. worried?” She blinked rapidly, trying to settle the new information in her head. “And the older kids?” She had never had so many people express concern for her, and it was giving her a funny warm feeling in her belly.

Pansy drawled from her spot next to Daphne, “Oh, they are pissed because you rescued some Gryffindorks. Makes you look like an idiot, saving those fools.” 

Heather nodded slowly. “Huh.  Ok. Well.. I guess, I’m sorry you were worried?”

Draco smirked, “And?”

She frowned at him. “And what?”

“And you won’t do it again?” 

She shook her head. “I can’t promise that, so I won’t say it.  I will try to make sure that I don’t go alone again, but you have to be willing to come with me immediately.  I didn’t ask for help because I didn’t think I had time for an argument. If you’re all going to be with me, you have to be willing to follow my lead.” Her face was grave, and she met everyone’s eyes as she spoke.  The rest of the first years looked thoughtful as they considered her words, before they all headed out to breakfast.

 

oOo

After two days, the only Slytherins not in her court who were still treating her even close to normally were on the Quidditch team.  She practiced with Flint just before dawn every other day, learning the basics before the first match. The fact that she was on the team was being kept very quiet, and most of the house wasn’t even sure if she was really on the team, and whether or not she got on just because of her name.  

Heather sighed in annoyance as she went to defense club.  She had spent an hour before dawn on her broom, twenty more minutes running around the pitch, then went straight to Snape’s classroom, where she washed a veritable mountain of cauldrons.  Most of them had a burnt tar like substance in the bottom, and it took scrubbing with hot water and sand in order to start moving it out. She was used to washing pots, but these were far worse than any that she had dirtied while cooking.  

She murmured to Draco, who was standing next to her, “You know, it’s not really the rest of the Slytherins ignoring me that’s bothering me.  It’s all the blasted Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs trying to befriend me that’s the problem.” 

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You should have considered that consequence ahead of time, maybe.” 

She huffed, blowing her fringe up with a hot puff of air. “People have never paid this much attention to me in my entire life, Dray.  My calculations will be more accurate next time.” She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the smug blond standing next to her, and gave in to the urge to bump him with her shoulder as she went up to the front of the class to help start handing out paperwork.  

Quirrell stuttered, “St-students, look at the p-p-paper. It has the ru-rules for a c-c-c-ontest, starting in J-j-january.”

Talk broke out amongst the students, as they all quickly read over the rules.  Excitement took over, as there hadn’t been a dueling competition at Hogwarts in more than a decade.  Heather skimmed the rules, grinning with excitement when she saw that first years would be allowed to participate.  The meeting broke up quickly after that, but before she could leave, Professor Quirrell gestured for her to remain.

She took the opportunity and joined the queue to register, making sure that she was near the end of the line so she had an excuse to linger without drawing attention from her court.  Draco and Millie were the only two still attending, and she knew they wouldn’t go far without her.

Once the room had cleared, she approached her professor. “What did you need sir?” 

He looked her over, focussing briefly on her scar, then turning to get something out of his bag.  “Here is my response to the note you delivered.” She accepted the folded piece of parchment, flipping it open only to find the same strange script.  

She sighed, only mildly annoyed. “What language is this anyway?” 

He smirked at her, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Her eyes widened, he suddenly sounded very familiar.  He caught the look on her face and frowned. “Run along, child, I’m sure your ....friends... are waiting for you.” His mouth twisted in a sneer.  

She shoved his note into her bag, and moved quickly through the door, only taking one look back over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.  

oOo

 

That afternoon, Heather joined Draco, Tracey, Millie, and Neville to work on their homework in the room they had adopted near the library.  When the Slytherins walked in, Neville was sitting with his head in his hands, staring down at the table, despondent. 

“Neville, what’s going on?” Heather asked, puzzled.

Not looking up, he mumbled, “Got a letter from my Gran.  She’s really mad about my father’s wand. Not sure when she’ll take me to get another one.  I’m going to fail this whole year!” 

Heather scowled at him. “She’s mad at you because you were attacked by a troll?”

He shrugged. “She didn’t say anything about the troll, just that she was disappointed in me for being so careless as to break my wand, and that she would contact me later to let me know when she’d take me to get a wand.” 

Heather turned to Draco, “What did your father say about the troll? He’s on the Board, right?” 

Draco paused, consideringly. “He hasn’t said anything.  Did you tell my parents about it? I haven’t written about it.” 

“Wouldn’t Dumbledore have to tell the board? I mean, Granger’s femur was shattered, she could have bled out! Neville had a concussion.  I mean, sure, they were healed before bedtime the next day, but still, isn’t he required to tell the parents?” Heather sounded bewildered, and she plopped down in a chair, looking at the other kids, baffled.

Slowly, Draco nodded, “I think he should have told the board...”  He sank gracefully into his seat, then smirked suddenly. “Wait until my father hears about this!”  Everyone in the room burst out laughing, even Neville, and they all turned to their books in a much better mood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like everyone's reactions, and that there were at least a couple of things that caught you off guard!


	20. Letters, a Rite, and more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather writes a couple of letters, celebrates Samhain, and more!

Chapter 20

 

That evening, several owls were sent out by first years.  Heather first completed the letter for the solicitors that Lady Zabini suggested, then she wrote to her account manager.

 

_ Sir Ragnock, _

_ It has come to my attention that there may be several important books dealing with bloodline gifts in the Peverell vault.  I require copies of these books. Would you be able to copy these artifacts for me? Time is money, and yours would be compensated appropriately. _

_ Heather Potter _

_ Heiress Potter, Black, and Peverell _

  
  


That letter was sent through her letter box, rather than with Hedwig.  The letter to Narcissa was far longer. She worked on the phrasing for several hours, not wanting to worry her new found family too much.

 

_ Dearest Aunt Cissa, _

 

_ I cannot thank you enough for your kind gifts! The most recent one will be used in just a few days on November 9th, and I hope that you are able to attend.  I am adjusting well to the world that should have been my birthright, and I can only thank your excellent tutelage.  _

_ You may have heard some concerning rumors of late, and I wish to lay several to rest.  Cousin Draco was very worried, and you know how he tends to overreact. All three Gryffindors have recovered well from our encounter with the Troll on Halloween.  Granger, the muggleborn, is still walking with a limp, but I’m certain that Madam Pomfrey will have that sorted before the year is out. As for the youngest Weasley boy, it turns out that he just fainted because of all the blood! I didn’t know that Gryffindors had such weak stomachs, but you learn something new every day.  Heir Longbottom did lose his wand, but standing up to a troll while only getting a concussion is pretty impressive. I hope his Grandmother will forgive him. He said that she’s refusing to buy him a new wand, though! Have you spoken with her of late? I was hoping that you might have tea with her, and pass along my admiration for his bravery, even if it was a bit reckless.  Draco may make much of my involvement, but truly, it was the most minor of incidents, and I didn’t even require any medical attention. The surprising part for me is that none of this made the Daily Prophet. Once, someone broke into my muggle primary school when there were no students present, and it was on the news for days! It seems that magical people are made of sterner stuff, which only makes sense.   _

_ Thank you again for the invitation to your ball! I’m not certain that I’ll be allowed to leave school if I’m not going to my guardians’ home, but perhaps something can be arranged? I would dearly love to spend the holiday with you.   _

_ Yours,  _

_ Heather _

 

_ Now, I just have to hope that she reads mine before she sees whatever Draco sent to his father... I really don’t want Aunt Cissa coming up here on a warpath.  Given how weird everyone’s reacted to the whole thing, she’d probably get mad at me too! Of course, Dumbledore is the only one pleased with me, so maybe I shouldn’t have done it...  Anything that makes him happy can’t really be a good idea for me.  _ She spent a few moments in contemplation, before continuing on to the Owlery to send it off.

 

oOo

 

November 7th arrived quickly.  This was the day precisely in between the Fall equinox and the Winter Solstice, and the day that Heather celebrated Samhain. She felt it more appropriate for magic to be tied to the Sun and Moon than for it to be pinned down by something man made, like a calendar.  That morning, she spoke to her court at breakfast. “I’ll be busy after dinner, performing my ritual for Samhain. I know I invited you all to join me, and if you’d like to, you may join me in our study room at 8. If you’re not coming, please help keep people away from the door, I don’t fancy getting interrupted.” They nodded, Draco shooting her a small smile.

“Don’t worry, Heather.  Most of the house celebrated on Halloween, but no one will bother you tonight.” Heather returned his smile, and turned back to her breakfast.  Classes dragged slowly all day, as Heather was focused on her preparation for the evening. 

At dinner, rather than eating her food, she pushed it around her plate, gathering up bread, meat, cheese, and roasted veggies to take with her.  She didn’t bother getting any of the juice, as she didn’t care for the heavy spices and excessive sweetness of the pumpkin juice. As soon as she was back in her room, she put the food she liberated onto two small plates, and hopped in the shower.  Leaving her hair unbound, and dressed in a simple red dress, she took her things to their study room. Sitting in their study room, she found Draco, Theo, and Millie.

She smiled at her friends, and set the food off to the side. “Can you help me move this table?”  Working together, they shifted the large table off to the side of the room, and put the chairs on top, giving them an open floor.  She went to the side of the room, and pulled a bag of salt from her cauldron. “Like I said, I don’t know what you do, but what I’m going to do is cast a circle, and then offer into the fire the things I do not wish to take with me into the new year.  I brought some parchment, so we can all write a few small things. After that, we’ll invite our ancestors to join us in a feast, and mediate.” She offered them each a sheet of parchment, and took hers. She wrote in small letters, then tore it off, folding it in half.  

Theo nodded seriously, writing on his parchment.  “Thanks for sharing this, Heather. I prefer to practice rituals in a group, and this is the first Samhain I’m not with my grandfather.” He looked down, then back at her with a small smile. Draco and Millie made notes, folding their parchments up like Heather did.

Next, she slipped out of her shoes, and dimmed the lights by tossing scarves over the green glass covered magical lamps.  She set the cauldron in the center of the room, with a small pile of sticks right next to it. On all four sides, she set an unlit white candle.  She gestured for them to each pick a spot, keeping the North for herself. After everyone was seated cross legged on the wooden floor, she took the bag of salt and walked counter clockwise around the group, pouring a small line in as perfect a circle as she could manage.  As she walked, her magic spilled out of her core, lapping through the room like water in a still lake. It was the first time that the others had felt her magic entirely unrestrained, and Draco gasped, almost falling over. The others swayed in place, leaning closer to her

“Great Goddess, Mother of Magic, your daughter calls to you.  On this, the day when the veil is thin, I invoke you. Join us at our celebration, sit with us at our fire as we cast off the old year and welcome the new.  Purify us, that we may take yet another step along the path to honor you. I invoke and welcome you.” She set down the salt as she reached the beginning of her circle and knelt behind her candle.  “Guardian of the North, the cold wind that brings change and foretells death, I call to you. Keep watch over us this evening.” She lit the candle in front of her by blowing on it. The other children gasped, seeing her so casually use wandless magic.  She then held it out towards Draco, who was sitting opposite her to the south. “Guardian of the South, the one who brings warmth and prosperity, I welcome you. Keep watch over us this evening.” Draco, his silver eyes enormous, touched the wick of his candle to hers until they were both burning.  She gestured for him to replace his and turned to Millie. “Guardian of the East, giver of sunlight and new beginnings, I welcome you. Keep us warm on this night so close to the veil.” Millie touched her candle to Heather’s, offering a shy smile. She could already feel the pressure of pure magic that only happened during the big rituals at home.  Heather turned at last to Theo, “Guardian of the West, domain of harvest and hunting, we thank you for your gifts, in this the celebration of your season. Join us this evening as we offer our thanks for your bounty.” He pressed his candle to hers and returned her smile as she set her candle down in front of her.

Next, she took the first of the small sticks in front of her.  She lit the first one with another breath. “Hawthorn, cedar, oak, and ash.  Thank you for blessing us, this Samhain eve.” Each was lit in turn, and then placed inside the cauldron as a mini bonfire.  Heather then pulled up the small piece of parchment. “I burn this, in hopes that the next year will bring me change and new growth.  Cast off what you no longer need.” She let it fall into the fire, which blazed up quickly. The others murmured softly, then cast their parchment onto the flames.  Heather then turned to the small plates of food. “Those who have gone beyond the veil, take the offerings we bring.” She broke off pieces of everything on the plate, and cast it into the fire.  One plate was then set beside her, the other passed around to share. “This plate is for our ancestors who have gone before us. We enjoy this food in your company. Close your eyes, and feel their presence.”  Everyone closed their eyes, and Heather quickly fell into a meditative trance. 

She could feel her magic wrapping around her friends, the soothing feel of their auras touching hers.  For the first time since she got to Hogwarts, she felt at peace, as the worries of the day were swept out of her.  She could feel a warmth over her, almost like an embrace. She luxuriated in the feeling as long as it lasted, and only when it was gone did she open her eyes.  The fire had burnt out, the last ember crumbling as she looked. 

Heather smiled, and pushed her wild curls behind her ear, before lifting her candle and gesturing for the others to do the same.  “Thank you Guardians, for your gifts this year. We will hold them close for another year.” With that, she blew out her candle, gesturing for the others to do the same.  Once they had, she gracefully rose, and walked the circle clockwise. “Great Mother, thank you once again for joining us. As we depart, we thank you, we are grateful, we will honor you.” A pop was heard, and the pressure in the room lightened.  Heather smiled, not her normal sort of grin, but a smile of happiness and relaxation. “Thank you for joining me. I hope that you are refreshed.” She immediately bent to cleaning up the remnants of her ceremony. The others joined her.

Theo whispered, “That was not quite like the rites that I have attended, but it had the same feeling.  Thank you for inviting us.” Heather nodded, and they soon returned to their rooms. Heather fell asleep quickly, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

oOo

 

The next day the three who had joined her drew even closer around her.  Before, she had a rotating cast who walked with her and sat closest to her at meals, but now it had stabilized. Theo had a quiet restfulness to him.  He felt like a smoothly flowing mountain creek. While the surface was calm, much lurked beneath it. He was studious, and always had a book in his hands.  Millie remained silent, despite the teasing of the girls in other houses. She was not petite, and her speech was usually slow. It wasn’t because her thoughts were slow, though, but because she didn’t bother with words until they were necessary.  Her magic felt solid, like a mountain. Draco remained the flighty, whiny, self-centered boy Heather met in Diagon Alley, on the surface. He was quickly showing the rest of her court the loyalty and brilliance that lurked beneath. His magic was airy, and felt like quicksilver.  

That evening, Heather got the first response to one of her letters.  Unsurprisingly, it was her account manager. He sent back a note confirming that she did own several books on the topic, and sent two through.  The first one was called  _ Speaking with the Dead  _ and the second was  _ Life, Death, and the Magic Thereof.   _ Heather smirked when she saw the titles.  _ I better not get caught reading these, I bet people would think I’m too young for them.  I wonder if Marvolo knows a spell to cover them up with something else? _

As soon as she thought that, she dropped into her mindscape.  “Marvolo! I need a spell!” Her grin was infectious, and he smiled at her indulgently.  

“Again, I get no greeting, just demands for more magic? I see how it is.” His voice was light and teasing.

She huffed and plopped into her seat.  “Yes, yes, Hello dearest Marvolo. Thank you for receiving me on such short notice.” She rolled her eyes, but then grinned again. “I need a spell that can hide the title of a book and whats on the inside.  I have some new books, and I don’t think that I should get caught reading them.” 

He chuckled, “What, did you steal something from the restricted section?” 

Her eyes widened, “No, but that’s brilliant! You can tell me how to work around the wards? I tried peeking at them, but they were blinding and so layered...” She paused consideringly, then shook her head, and continued. “No, I got my account manager to copy me some books from the Peverell vault.  I had two books on Necromancy! So I want to read those, because it’s a gift of the Peverells, and maybe that’s one that I got.” 

His jaw dropped open and he stared at her intensely. “Peverell? Necromancy?” He looked at the shelves then back to her. “Yes, you must read those books as quickly as possible, so that I can see them in your library.  Necromancy is illegal, so you shouldn’t let anyone know you have those books. Here, let me show you a spell. I’d recommend trying it on a book you don’t like very much first, given your... talent... with charms, it might not work at first.” He muttered as he stood, “if anyone could set fire to a book casting a charm, it would be you...”  

She glared at him, setting her hands on her hips. “HEY!  I mean, you’re not wrong, but still, rude! Wait, if it’s a charm, wouldn’t it be canceled with Finite?” 

She went from mock annoyed to intensely focused inside of a sentence, and he smiled at her again, pleased at how quickly she had absorbed his lessons.  “It could, if you cast the English version. I’m going to teach you the Parseltongue version of the spell.” 

It was her turn to have her mouth drop open in shock. “Whoa...” 

He preened under her admiring glance, but quickly got down to teaching her the spell.  As soon as she was out of the mindscape, she clattered down the stairs in her apartment trunk to practice it.  She pulled out an old maths workbook, laid it on her desk and pulled her wand. Right before casting it, she froze, looked around. “He’s not wrong about my charms work..”  She snatched the book up, stalked into her kitchenette, and put it in the sink. “There. If it catches fire, at least I can put it out fast.” She brandished her wand, then paused again. “I still can’t tell if it’s parseltongue or not all the time.”  She sighed, and went to her bedroom. ~Thanatos? Are you awake? I need some help.~

She heard a quiet hissing from the warming rock she had purchased for him before her boomslang popped his head up.  His brilliant green scales edged in navy blue stood out against the cream walls. ~Of course I’m awake! What do you need help with? You need me to strike your enemies, make them fall so you can eat? You’re still too skinny.~ He slithered out further, approaching his favorite human.

Heather chuckled and shook her head. ~No.. Marvolo taught me a spell in parseltongue, but I need someone around to tell me if I’m speaking English or not.~  Thanatos slithered up her arm until he was settled loosely around her shoulders. 

~Of course I can tell you if you’re talking sensible or that silly human language. Show me your magic!  Will this spell bring heat enough to last the whole hibernation season? Or will it bring mice?~ His voice was filled with longing when he spoke of heat and food.

~No.  That would be lovely, but this is supposed to help me hide something from the other humans.~  She stroked his head gently as they made their way into the kitchen. ~Are you sure you want to stay in here all the time?  You could live in my room in the castle instead of this room.~

He hissed, a snakey little laugh. ~This is the warmest nest.  I will come out when hibernation is over. The stone nest is too cold, even if it has lots of mice.  Let’s see this hiding magic.~ He lifted his head up so he could see better, as Heather raised her wand and cast the spell.  The silver magic hit the workbook, which started smoldering. ~That was in parseltongue. Your lightning seemed strong, but how will that hide things?~ 

Heather growled with annoyance. ~Argh, that’s not right at all.  One more try.~ She put out the fire, then held her wand up again.  This time she took a deep breath, and connected with her core, slowly releasing the magic as she cast.  She was able to keep the flow steady, not allowing it to pour into her wand but instead allowing only a trickle.  This time, she whispered the spell, and before her eyes the maths workbook turned into a plain black journal, like one of a dozen in her trunk.  ~Perfect!~ she cheered, excited to have finally mastered the spell.

She pulled out the copies that Ragnock had sent her, laid them on the counter and quickly disguised them to look like her muggle textbooks. She stroked Thanatos’s head again, ~I’ll work on learning that long term heating charm, I don’t want you to get cold down here.~

~You are a good Speaker. Bring me a nice mouse the next time.~ He curled around her neck, before slipping off her arm and back to his heated rock.  Heather yawned and made her way back up to her room in the castle. Tomorrow was her first quidditch match, and she was hopeful that she wouldn’t completely embarrass herself.

 

oOo

 

The next morning at breakfast, the mail came in a rush.  Heather had been doing a good job of concealing her nerves, until an eagle owl landed between her and Draco.  He had a letter from his father, and she had one from Aunt Cissa. She bit her lip as she looked at the innocent creamy white parchment envelope. She quickly popped the seal and looked at the letter.  

 

_ Dearest Heather, _

_ I thank you for your recent correspondence, and wish to speak with you in person regarding certain incidents. Perhaps you will be free this afternoon? Until then, I recommend you take a look at the Daily Prophet.  _

_ Aunt Cissa _

  
  


Heather sighed, and tucked the note in her bag.  _ Sounds like she believes Draco’s version more than mine. Hopefully I won’t be in too much trouble...  _

She looked over at Blaise, who was reading his copy of the Daily Prophet.  “Is there anything good?” 

Wordlessly, he handed the paper over.  She laid it between her and Draco and read.

 

**TROLL IN HOGWARTS???**

 

_ That’s right, dearest readers! A week ago, on Halloween, a mountain troll invaded our precious school! How did this monster get in? And who defended our children? These questions and more troubled yours truly, and I did my best to get the public the answers that they deserve. _

 

_ The troll’s invasion was noted by none other than the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Quirinus Quirrell. He did not tackle the foul beast on his own, but retreated to the Great Hall in the middle of the feast to get help from the great Headmaster and other teachers.  They ventured forth, leaving the wellbeing of the students in the hands of their prefects.  _

 

_ The troll was found, not by the teachers however, but by students! How did the students find the troll before any of the adults? No one is telling, but this reporter is on the case!  A first year muggleborn was nearly killed by the troll, and Heir Longbottom’s wand was broken when he attempted to defend her! Roland Weasley tried to help, but it wasn’t until the Girl Who Lived raced to the rescue that the troll was defeated.  That’s three Gryffindors, rescued by a Slytherin. Seeing that sort of inter house unity is almost as shocking as the ages of the students! All of the children involved are in their first year at Hogwarts! The Headmaster did not appear until after the troll was knocked unconscious.  _

 

_ Where were the teachers who are responsible for our children’s safety? Why couldn’t they find the troll before first years stumbled across it? How weakened are the wards if they allow a dark creature into the school? Why were the first years not safe?  What would have happened had the Girl Who Lived not rescued her fellow students? What was a mountain troll doing near the castle? Why did it take us so long to hear about this terrible attack? This reporter will not rest until she can answer all of our questions! _

 

_ Rita Skeeter _

_ Special Correspondent _

 

_ For more information on Mountain Trolls, see pg 4 _

_ For more on the Girl Who Lived, see pg 6 _

_ For more on Dumbledore, see pg 7 _

  
  


Heather glanced up at the head table as soon as she finished reading, just in time to see Dumbledore scowl at the paper. She whispered, “Our esteemed Headmaster doesn’t look like he enjoyed the article.”

Draco snorted, “He was trying to keep it hushed up, and the most sensational writer got ahold of the story. She won’t let it die until she’s milked at least four articles out of the story.” 

A wicked grin flashed on Heather’s face, before she regained her composure. “Oh really? Ms. Skeeter sounds like an interesting person.” 

Draco sighed. “Really, you should be focused on the match, the rest of the world can wait. Slytherin has won the cup the last six years, and you don’t want to be the reason we lose our first match!” He glared over at the Gryffindor table.

“Don’t worry Draco, I’ll have my head in the game.” She smiled indulgently at him, before returning to her food. While she was nervous about playing in front of everyone, thinking about how to destroy Dumbledore always put her in a good mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the ritual. I made up most of the phrasing, but the feel was definitely inspired by Wiccan Samhain rituals I found on the internet. I didn't want to actually take any phrasing, because I didn't want to use someone's religion as a plot in a story. The most important part for me was the feeling that it provoked, and I hope that I honored that.


	21. Quidditch!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryffindor vs Slytherin, with our favorite Potter as the Seeker.

CHAPTER 21

 

Breakfast was rife with whispers and gossip, after the article about the troll.  Heather could hear the Gryffindor twins, already dressed in their Quidditch robes, “RONALD, no one told us that you changed your name!” 

“Ickle Ronniekins growing up, changing his name!” 

“Mum is going to be so proud, I bet she frames this.” 

“Of course, that’s only if you bothered to tell her about ending up in the hospital wing.”

“Imagine what she would say if she heard from Rita Skeeter before her precious Ronnie? Or is it Rollie now?”

Even from the opposite side of the room, Heather could see Weasley’s face pale, and everyone noticed him running out of the room.  She heard him yelling, “Bloody hell, I have to write that letter!” The twins collapsed on each other, laughing.

From the head table, the smooth baritone of the potions professor drawled, “Ten points from Gryffindor for language, and another five for running in the Great Hall.” 

The Slytherin Quidditch team, except Heather, chose that moment to get up, to many cheers from the Slytherins and boos from the other three table.  They headed out in a block, with the reserve Seeker, Terence Higgs. Heather caught Flint’s eye and nodded, shooting him a small smile. She took the opportunity while everyone was watching the team to get out of the great hall, and down to the dressing room, where her broom and uniform were waiting.  All of the running she was doing in her spare time had really helped her stamina for sprinting, and she made it there before the rest of the team, as they were ambling with a group of well-wishers. She stripped off her uniform quickly, and got into the leggings and fitted tank that she wore under the thick green robes and jumper.  She slipped the elbow and knee pads on, then the shinguards. The rest of the team walked in while she was rebraiding her hair more tightly.

“Alright team! They’re not ready for us, and we’re going to keep them off balance all game.  Those Gryffindors won’t know what hit ‘em!” Marcus turned to the beaters, and continued his speech. “Warrington, I don’t give a shit about any problems you’ve got with Potter. She’s going to win this game for us, and I want you making sure she doesn’t get knocked out with a bludger.  I heard that they’ve got McLaggen as their seeker this year, but he’s only a second year, so this is his first game too. If you can take him out, do it.” 

Heather’s eyes widened, and she looked at all the bigger boys.   _ Crap... If the other team is half as big as them, and planning on taking me out, I am so screwed.  I hope I’m as good as they keep saying I am.  _ Her stomach exploded in butterflies, and she bit her lip to keep from showing her nerves. For the first time in a long time, she reached up to adjust the glasses she no longer needed.  

“Here we go! Just like we talked about, alright Potter?” She nodded shortly, then lifted her chin, resting her broom on her shoulder.  Shoulders back, chin up, she fell into position in the center of the Slytherin formation. They walked out as a block, and it was only when they got to Madam Hooch that they spread out, revealing their new seeker, the very petite first year.  Whispers broke out over the stadium, and yelling started in the red and gold stands. The team facing her had their mouths gaping open in shock. The first two to recover were the twins, and they offered her a smirk of recognition of a great prank.

The Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood, started yelling, “Madam Hooch, you can’t let this happen!  She’s a first year, she’s not on the team, they’re not even allowed to play!” 

Madam Hooch fingered her whistle, and looked between the two captains and Heather. “What is the meaning of this, Flint? Is she really on your team?” She looked torn between wanting to get the game started, and dealing with the drama in front of her.

Flint smirked at Oliver Wood then looked at Madam Hooch and nodded deferentially. “Yes, ma’am. Professor Snape put her on the team himself.” She sighed, mounted her broom, and flew up to the teachers stands.

They all watched her converse with Severus for several minutes, with the other teachers looking on interestedly.  The clearest emotion on their faces was worry, except for Snape. He looked smug, like the cat that got the canary.  

Madam Hooch landed between the teams and shook her head at Wood.  “Sorry, Wood. She’s on the team. They don’t have to tell you the roster before the game, so you’re just going to need to accept it.  You ready to fly?” 

There was a chorus of agreement from the Slytherin side, but the Gryffindors looked worried and confused.  Wood broke out, “But she’s so small! What if she gets hurt?”

Heather glared at him, “I know the risks of the game.  You’re not my mum, you don’t get to tell me what I can’t do.” 

Wood gasped, blinking several times, “I.. I .. I didn’t ... I mean.. I’m sorry about your parents. I just--  Let’s just play.” He looked shell shocked, not expecting her to even speak to him. Behind her, Montague, the only third year who sat with her regularly, chuckled quietly.

The two captains exchanged a hand shake, looking more like they were trying to break each other’s hands, and everyone mounted their brooms.  Within moments, Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and the game began.

It was sunny, only a few clouds way up high, and chilly.  Heather shivered at the wind cutting through her robes, and circled above the action.  Now that she was in the air, she felt free, the nerves and worries that plagued her on the ground falling away with gravity.  She kept her eyes open, looking for the golden reflection of the snitch, while trying to keep an eye on the bludgers. Over by the stands, she saw the sparkle of something gold, and she darted that direction, only to realize that it was just a pair of golden binoculars.  Her moment of distraction was enough and a bludger whistled towards her, propelled by one of the twin’s bats. Quickly, she barrel rolled, getting under her broom just in time for the bludger to pass over her. She righted herself quickly, and zipped closer to Warrington. They hit the bludger towards her again, and this time he cut in front of her, knocking the heavy ball towards the Gryffindor chasers, which broke up their formation.  Flint swooped in, stealing the Quaffle from the lead chaser, a girl with a brown ponytail. He easily sank the ball through the hoop, bringing the score up to 80 Gryffindor, 60 Slytherin. 

Heather turned her attention back to the pitch, looking for the snitch.  She flew towards the Slytherin hoops and noticed that she had a new shadow.  Cormac McLaggen, the blond Gryffindor Seeker, was on her tail. He was flying as close as possible to her, not even bothering to search for the snitch.  Instead, he was just watching her. Heather growled when he blocked her from turning when she went to continue her search pattern. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and realized that he wasn’t looking for the elusive winged ball.  Stifling a smirk, she glanced around the pitch, then opened her eyes wide and dove for the ground. She flew as fast as she could towards the ground, only pulling up at the last moment. She used the speed she gained from the steep dive to whip around the pitch near the ground, before climbing again, straight up the stands.  McLaggen wasn’t daring enough to follow her dive to the ground, and instead pulled out ten meters up, only to stare at her in disbelief. “Bloody hell, that girl is insane!”, he yelled. 

Heather didn’t hear him, though, because as she whipped around the bottom of the pitch, she had actually spotted the snitch.  Continuing the climb up the side of the stands, she locked her eyes on the snitch, that was flitting happily behind the Wood’s head.  She arced backwards, pulling her broom upside down as she flew over the Gryffindor hoops. She extended her hand, and snatched the snitch out of the air, centimeters from the opposing captain’s head.

She triumphantly thrust her hand into the air as soon as she was upright, the wings of the snitch visible on either side of her hand. Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and for the first time Heather noticed the announcer, who grumbled, “Final score, 220-100. Slytherin wins, those dirty cheaters.”  

A flood of students in green and silver scarves flooded the field as the triumphant team landed.  Heather’s grin was brilliant, her cheeks flushed red from exercise and the excitement. The house crowded around them, patting her on the shoulder and offering congratulations.  After a few minutes, the crowd parted, and their head of house stalked forward, followed by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. “Excellent work, Miss Potter,” he drawled. “Now, this ... celebration.. Should be moved to more appropriate environs. The elves will have provided snacks in the common room by this point.  I will not be returning for several hours, so long as my attention isn’t needed.” He met the older students’ eyes, and they grinned before herding the rest of the house back to their common room for the party. Before she could leave, Severus dropped his hand on Heather and Draco’s shoulders, directing them to the Malfoys. “I believe they would like to speak with you before you depart.”  He stalked off towards the castle, unable to hide his pleasure in the victory.

Narcissa looked over Heather carefully. “Those were some dangerous stunts you were pulling on the pitch.  Especially for someone who’s not flown before.” Draco beamed at her, clearly too excited by the victory to bother with his pureblood mask.

Heather shrugged a little, “but they worked.  I knew that I could pull them off, so why not?” 

Lucius grinned at her, “That was amazing flying! I don’t know if Slytherin has ever had a seeker on your level.  I was looking through the records, and you’re the youngest seeker at Hogwarts in a century, at least! The last one was a Gryffindor.” He sneered the last sentence, before managing to hide his excitement at the game.  Narcissa smiled indulgently at him, and drew the group closer to the Black Lake, turning so their faces couldn’t be seen from the castle. As soon as she turned away from the castle, she waved her wand in a gesture that looked like the one Severus used to protect his office from spies.

“Uncle Lucius, I didn’t realize you were so into Quidditch! I would have written you as well as Aunt Cissa, had I known.” She smiled at him, still feeling the adrenaline of the match.

Draco interjected, “Father takes me to games whenever we can.  We have box seats at Appleby’s stadium. Maybe you can go with us over the summer?” He sounded hopeful, and his parents both noticed the deferential way he treated her.  

Heather smiled indulgently at the blond and nodded. “That sounds lovely, Draco.” 

Narcissa quickly took back control of the conversation. “Be that as it may, we wish to speak with you about the troll incident.”

Heather sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “Are you going to lecture me too? I swear, I know better now, I’ll be more careful!” 

Narcissa smirked, “After watching you play Quidditch, I sincerely doubt that you can be more careful. No, we’re just going to have to adapt the plot to suit your strengths.  There’s no reason to ask you to be something you’re not, and you’ll never manage a quiet wallflower.” 

Heather looked up at her through her fringe, judging her expression, but a hopeful smile quickly bloomed.  “We all saw the article in the paper about the troll, and why Dumbledore let that happen. Do you think we can get him busy enough that he doesn’t have time to pay attention to you getting custody?” 

Narcissa smiled approvingly at her. “Precisely!” Draco and Lucius spent the time by the lake discussing the game they just watched, but Narcissa and Heather continued plotting. 

“Aunt, what do you know about the Philosopher’s stone? Dumbledore said that everyone needed to avoid the third floor corridor or else we’d die a painful death, and then Hagrid let it slip that it was Nicholas Flamel, so...  Also, Pansy said that she’s pretty sure there’s a magical beast of some kind behind the door. She heard it from a Hufflepuff, who got the information from those Weasley twins.” 

Narcissa’s iron control of her features was shaken, and she looked at Heather with her eyes wide, mouth slightly open. “Why on earth would he...”

Heather continued, “We’re pretty sure that’s the thing that someone broke into Gringotts to steal.  But who would hide something that valuable at a school? And would he need permission from the school Govenors for something like that?” Heather scowled, obviously very annoyed.

Narcissa gently squeezed her shoulder. “I do hope that you’re staying away from this plot of his?” 

Heather nodded emphatically. “Oh yeah.  And none of the other first year Slytherins are going near it either.  Or Neville.” 

The blond sighed, relief clear on her face.  “Excellent. I don’t want you wrapped up in whatever scheme he’s hatched.” 

Heather looked hesitant, but straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I was thinking... Do you think that the Flamels know that their stone is here?” 

Narcissa frowned, consideringly. “Dumbledore did work with Flamel on several projects... He might have given him permission.  Why? What are you thinking?” 

Heather swapped her broom back to the other shoulder. “I was thinking maybe I could send them a letter, make sure that they’re aware of what’s going on.  If I had a stone that let me live forever, I can’t imagine letting it out of my sight, let alone into a school!” She frowned again, annoyance obvious. “I just don’t see what he’s trying to do.  Is he seriously baiting the thief?”

Lucius drawled from beside them, “It’s best to never try and figure out what that old fool is thinking, it will just give you a headache, much like looking at his robes.” Draco snorted a laugh.  

“We need to get to the party before they send someone out to find you, Heather. You’re the hero of the hour, time to capitalize on it!” Draco smiled at his parents. “It was lovely to see you, I didn’t think we’d get the chance before Yule!” 

Heather snapped her fingers. “Oh yeah! Yule. I was thinking, since the ball is on the Solstice, maybe I could just get Professor Snape to escort me to the party and back? That way I don’t draw any attention by going home.  I wouldn’t put it past Dumbledore to inform my muggle guardians that they needed to pick me up from the station.” 

Lucius nodded approvingly. “I’ll speak with him myself.” 

Narcissa smirked. “You know, this means he has to actually attend the ball this year.  Perhaps I should order him some new dress robes.” Her eyes danced wickedly, and Heather joined Draco in snickering.

“I won’t warn him, then.” Heather returned Narcissa’s grin, but then allowed Draco to drag her off to the party.  While they traversed the lawn, Heather spoke softly to Draco, who was now just walking next to her, instead of half dragging her. “Draco? Thanks for .. for sharing your parents with me.”

Draco sniffed haughtily, but shot her a grin. “When you were distracting my mother, I convinced my father to get me a new broom for Yule.  You’re reasonably useful.”

“Hey!” She grinned and poked him sharply in the ribs. 

When they walked in, she was greeted with cheers.  Theo took her broom up to her room, and a butterbeer was shoved in her hand.  There was music playing, and a table full of finger foods off to the side. Flint planted himself on one side of her, and they answered questions and chatted for hours.  Not everyone was immediately friendly, but the excitement from beating Gryffindor again was bubbling over. If Heather secretly wished that she could be curled up in her bed reading her new books on necromancy, no one needed to know.

 

oOo

 

All was not as cheerful upstairs in the Headmasters office.  His painted forebears watched him, frowns clear on their faces.  He muttered to himself as he paced his familiar path in front of his desk.  “Now they all love her! This just won’t work. I thought everything was working fine, but now this! First friends with the Malfoy brat, and now Quidditch star? No.  I can’t let this happen.” He frowned, tugging gently on his beard. “I’ll have to get her off that team, or else she’ll never make any decent friends.” He collapsed in his chair and steepled his fingers in thought.  “Why isn’t this working out the way it should?” He looked over at his chessboard, and nudged several pieces into new positions, the many lines on his face deepening as he considered the new layout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is! Barely on Wednesday, but done. Next time we get to Marvolo and Voldie, promise.


	22. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather and Marvolo have a much needed conversation

Chapter 22

 

The next day dawned, and Heather decided to put it to a better use.  Rather than revising her muggle schoolwork or her first year curriculum, she remained in her bedroom, curled up with her new books until lunch time.

 

_ It is a terrible privilege to walk the paths of the dead.  Many have wished for this gift, but those who have it are always seen as different by the mortals surrounding them.  Once you have touched death, you are not who you once were, and nothing can return you to that state of innocence. Here are the signs of a necromancer:   _

 

  * __Ghosts flee their company.  A mere shade cannot tolerate the presence of one who has a connection to the afterlife.__


  * _Harbringers of death seek them out.  You will often find a necromancer in the company of thestrals, grims, or dementors._


  * _A necromancer must have been touched by death at some point.  This does not mean that they touched a dead body, but that they were magically slain at some point and yet Death allowed their return to this realm.  Many who sought the power of death faced a curse at the hands of a friend only to be met with failure._


  * _The final sign is their gaze. A necromancer’s eyes will often glow a very particular killing shade of green._



 

_ All necromancers are twice born: once in life and again in death.  The second birth is what grants the connection to death. _

 

Heather set the book down, her eyes widening.  “I’ve never met any of those creatures, but... Other than that...  I think I might be able to learn this.” She grinned, fierce excitement clear. Thoughts of all the things she might be able to do with a forgotten and forbidden power raced through her mind, and she couldn’t restrain a giggle.  She flipped through the book, until she stopped about halfway through. She read the title on the page, and her eyes got even bigger, her grin more manic. “I know what I’m trying first.”

Before she could get too deep into her planning, she retreated to her mindscape, bouncing in place once she opened her eyes. “Hi Marvolo! You’ll never guess what I read!!!”

He smiled indulgently at her. “I’m glad to see that your manners haven’t suffered in your excitement this time. What did you discover this time?” 

She smirked at him and sat down gracefully in her grey wingback chair. “Are you gonna tell me what you and Quirrell were writing letters about yet?” Her eyes were dancing with mirth as she watched the chestnut haired older man.

He sighed and shook his head at her. “What? Are you attempting extortion? How am I to know that your surprise is as valuable as my information?” He tried to hide the playful grin, but was only partially successful.

Heather’s smile widened. “What? You think I’m going to brag about winning the match yesterday? Nahhh, you don’t care about Quidditch.  I will let you watch my memory of the game, but only if you promise not to yell at me.” Not for the first time, Heather was grateful that Marvolo was confined to her mental sitting room, instead of being free to roam and view her memories at his leisure.

His eyes sharpened and he frowned at her. “And why would I lecture you?” 

She sighed deeply and rolled her eyes, in the melodramatic manner favored by preteen girls everywhere.  “SOME people didn’t like how I played, but I won the game and didn’t end up the infirmary, so I don’t figure there’s any reason to get all worked up.” She shook her head dismissively. “Anyway, that’s not what I’m offering.  Do you know what book I started reading today?”

His eyes remained sharp on her, but he allowed the change of topic. “Weren’t you going to start in on the necromancy books?” At her nod, he straightened up even more and leaned forward. “And you won’t tell me what you discovered?” 

She shook her head slowly. “Not until you share what you’re using me to say to my defense teacher.” 

He sighed and nodded, summoning tea with a wave of his hand. He prepared cups for both of them, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll tell, but if what you have to offer isn’t an even trade, I’ll demand another favor.” She nodded, sipping her tea carefully.  Tea in her mindscape was never so hot that it burnt her mouth, but habits were hard to break. “You’ve asked me several times who I was outside of your mind, in the time before I was somehow here.” Heather nodded slowly, her eyes not moving from him. “Quirrell... He is in much the same position as you, in that he is hosting a portion of ... well... me.  There are significant differences, but the concept is the same.” 

Heather nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Who were you?” She set her teacup down, and pulled her legs up so she could wrap her arms around her knees.  

Marvolo winced, and looked down before looking back up at her apologetically. “My mother gave me the name Tom Marvolo Riddle.  I haven’t lied to you, darling girl. I did.. Omit a few facts, however.” 

Heather buried her face in her knees. “What did you leave out, Marvolo? How many pieces of you are out there? How you broke yourself into pieces? When you had a chance to lose a little bit inside my head?” Her head shot up and she looked at him, her eyes getting bigger and bigger, her face paling.  “Wait, I’ve lived with muggles my whole life, except the first fifteen months. Either I was born with you in my head or...” 

He caught her brilliant green eyes with his red ones and nodded slowly.  “When I was not much older than you are now, I claimed another name for myself.  You see, Heather?” She sat frozen in her chair, her heart beating faster and faster, her breath coming fast. “I am Lord Voldemort.”

“You.. you.. That means you tried to kill me! Are... are you going to kill me now?” She curled even tighter into a ball, and their chairs slid further apart, her mindscape responding to her fear.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, before relaxing more into his chair, forcefully keeping his body language open and calm. “No, I’m not going to kill you. I’m--” He stopped, shook his head and looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner, but I was concerned that you would--”

She watched him like a hawk, a million thoughts flickering behind her eyes.  “I... I can’t deal with this right now. You.. Just stay there.” She popped her eyes back open in the real world.  

“I can’t.. I can’t deal with this shit! He tried to murder me! But.. I mean, I guess it was war.. But.. And what kind of dark lord can’t kill a stupid toddler?!” She paced around her small apartment in her trunk, dodging the furniture without even thinking about it.  “He looked really worried to tell me. Why would he be worried? Unless...” She stopped dead, and her mouth dropped open. “Unless he doesn’t have any magic left. If I could lock him up as a baby... I bet I could do it again.” The words slipped out of her mouth, slowly, each one falling like a stone in the silence of the trunk.  Heather slowly sank into the seat at her desk, and covered her mouth with her hand as she thought. She yanked her hand through her hair, and continued. “If he has no magic, then he must need my help to get out of my head.” She glared at the wall, deep in thought, considering the many ways that she could try and spin this to her advantage.  “I can’t let him kill me once he’s free. I’ll need a guarantee. But if this works...” A laugh slipped out, sounding of disbelief and relief more than humor. She closed her eyes, ready to try and put this new plan into action.

Heather opened her eyes, now seeing the inside of her sitting room.  Marvolo was exactly where she left him, sitting in the chair across from her.  “It was my magic that locked you up, wasn’t it?” She was quiet, watching him. Marvolo nodded slowly, waiting to see where she was going with this line of questioning. “I let you out when we first met, the only way I could have undone that magic is if it was mine, I didn’t know even one spell back then.  But you.. You know millions of spells. Why didn’t you break out?” 

His mouth quirked wryly. “Straight to the heart of the matter, Heather?  What would you have me say?” 

She looked at him levelly, “Are you able to stand up right now?  Or are you stuck there because I said?”

Ruby red eyes glared at her, then looked away, and he sighed. “At one time, I would have held you under the Cruciatus until your mind crumbled for speaking to me like that.” Despite the threat of torture, his voice was calm, his tone almost absent. “I still am not certain what it is you have done to me, child.” He sighed gustily, then looked back to her. “You are correct.  It is you who are in control here. This is your mind, and your will is supreme here. You freed me, and now I would ask more of you.” 

She nodded slowly.  “You want out, right?  You want a body back. But where does Quirrell come into all of this?”  

“He is like me, only somewhat more.  I am but a sliver, an anchor you might say.  I merely informed myself that our plans must change, because killing you would be ... counterproductive at best.” He shifted in his seat, not yet calm enough to reach for the tea sitting beside him.  

She sighed, and shook her head looking up at the ceiling. “So you told the rest of yourself, who is somehow in Quirrell, that he wasn’t allowed to kill me?” She smiled, unable to help herself, a warm feeling in her chest. “What are you going to do instead of killing me?” 

Marvolo lounged back in his chair, feeling that she was calmer now. “Well, you had offered to help me get a body and get out of your head.” 

Heather nodded slowly. “I guess I did... But.. I have to think about this one. I mean, if I help you, are you going to make me be one of your followers? Because I won’t.” She set her jaw, staring evenly at him, her shoulders square.  “I need to get something, something other than just getting you out of my head in exchange. And I want something more than just a promise that you won’t kill me, once you’re free and you have your magic back. This is too important to just trust to someone’s honor, it’s not like we’re Gryffindors or something.”

His smirk changed, softening into an actual smile as he looked at her. “We can discuss specifics later.  I believe you can find a couple of options on vows and the like in the library. I-- I find myself unhappy with the thought that you might be injured or killed in this endeavour.” He rubbed his hand on his chest, frowning contemplatively.  “Somehow, your continued health is very important to me. 

They both sat, their chairs slowly returning to their normal seats.  Heather gestured, and Marvolo was able to stand, and walked back over to the bookshelves.  He looked through all the books she had memorized and left out for him to read. A thoughtful gesture, and the only thing that had staved off boredom since he became more self-aware.  The first ten years had passed in a haze, every moment the same as the one before, dark and alone. Ever since she broke down the cage, he had been surrounded with comfort and kindness.  After a few minutes, he settled back in his chair and looked at her more calmly.

His tone changed to a more casual one, setting aside the seriousness of their past discussion. “Now, what information were you offering me in trade for my secrets?” 

Heather stared at him in disbelief, then shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Oh! Yeah. Well, I think this is probably pretty valuable.  Not sure if it’s on the level of “I’m secretly a mass murdering fugitive,” but you know, it’s still pretty good.” Marvolo glared at her characterization of his status, but gestured for her to continue.  She grinned unrepenting at him. “There are four signs that mark a necromancer. I know I fulfill three of them. The fourth, I just haven’t had a chance to confirm yet.” 

He stared at her in disbelief, shock clear on his face. “Necromancy?!  There hasn’t been a practicing necromancer since the middle ages!” Very quickly, his expression faded from shock, into pleasure. “This might be exactly what we needed, Heather.  Once you’ve finished reading that book, we have some more studying to do. And .. If you leave the castle for Yule, perhaps a few things to fetch.” 

 

oOo

 

Later that day in the teacher’s lounge, Dumbledore sat through yet another interminable meeting with the teachers.  When the meeting had finally drawn to a close, everyone but the heads of the four houses was dismissed, and Dumbledore addressed them, as per usual.  Several problem cases were discussed, including several Hufflepuffs who were still homesick even though it was almost Christmas Holiday. Dumbledore barely concealed his impatience in dealing with such a matter, and Professor Sprout was visibly annoyed.  

Finally, he was able to draw the discussion in the direction he had planned. “Severus, my dear boy, I admit I am very concerned.”

Minerva barely concealed a smirk, grateful that the dark haired man was the target this time instead of her.  Severus sighed, “And what are you concerned about this time, Albus?” He sounded bored, and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, simply put, I don’t think it safe to allow a first year on your house team.” His blue eyes were sad, and his entire demeanor looked disappointed and downtrodden.  “The game is far too dangerous for eleven year olds. I don’t know why you didn’t check with me first, the safety of the children is our most important charge.”

Severus looked at the headmaster, then to Minerva and back. “Have the rules of the game changed?” His voice was acerbic. “Nowhere in the rule book does it say that first years are disallowed.  Are you planning to make a rule for one specific student?” 

Minerva cut in, “Surely not!  Of course I was upset when Gryffindor lost,” 

Sprout whispered to Flitwick, “She was upset she lost 15 galleons!”

Minerva continued, ignoring the aside, “Heather is a wonderful flyer, just like her father, and it would be a travesty if she was grounded!” She brushed her fingers over the golden cat barrette a certain student gave her on the first day of classes.  “Really, Albus, is this truly necessary?”

Albus stroked his beard, the twinkle absent from his eyes. “I suppose not. I just find myself afraid for her health.  I didn’t even find out she was playing until after the match had finished! Imagine if she had been injured.” 

Severus sighed and shook his head. “If we’re not going to make a rule banning those twin demons of Minerva’s, I don’t see how we can make a rule about Miss Potter.  She’s kept up exemplary grades, attends study group meetings regularly, and attends practice. If that is all?” He stood, certain that Albus couldn’t get a new rule pushed through to force the issue.  As per usual, he was attempting to use guilt to make Severus volunteer to follow another new rule. This time, he would not cave. Heather would never forgive him. Even worse, he’d have to listen to Lucius whinge for the rest of the year if Heather got benched. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D I hope the wait for this conversation was worth it!


	23. November questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather continues writing letters to people who need to know things, and there is a surprise visit to the school.

Chapter 23

 

After a very restless night, Heather awoke, secure in several convictions.  First, she needed to know more about the last war. Second, she had to speak to the wraith Voldemort directly.  An agreement from the soul piece in her head was nice, but he had said that she had changed him, and what if the rest of him wasn’t willing to work with her? She wasn’t going to help resurrect someone who was going to kill her or keep her in a cage.  Third, she needed to figure out how she had changed Marvolo.  _ I wish there was someone else I could talk to about this.  _ She thought to herself.  _ But I’m still not telling anyone about this.  They’d either think I was crazy and lock me up, or decide I was the next Dark Lady and ... kill me? That seems to be what they do to the Dark.  _ She pursed her lips in thought, then shook them away, and rushed through her preparations for the new school week.  

Heather spent the rest of the month revising for end of term exams, reading her necromancy texts, and searching for books on souls.  Frustrated with the lacking selection in the Hogwarts library, she wrote to her account manager to see if she had any in her vaults. She also wrote a letter to a pair of alchemists in France.

 

_ Dear Mr and Mrs Flamel, _

 

_ I apologize for writing you out of the blue, but I have a matter of some urgency to discuss with you.  I understand that you worked closely with my Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, at one point. It has come to my attention that he may have come into possession of an item of yours of some value.  I don’t know if you read the Daily Prophet, but there was a break in at Gringotts right before school started. Hagrid, the groundskeeper, informed me and some other students that the item in question was moved to Hogwarts before the break in, and that there was no safer place.  As he said the matter was between you and the headmaster, we were left to draw our own conclusions. After the incident with the troll breaking into the school, I was concerned for the safety of your object. It took a surprisingly long time for the public to find out about the troll, so I was fairly certain that news had not reached France.  I hope you will forgive me for my boldness in writing you directly.  _

_ Regards, _

_ Heather Potter _

 

She read over her letter critically before nodding.  “That should work. If they did give the stone to Dumbledore to keep safe, at a school of all places, then they can tell me to mind my own business.” She quickly headed up to the Owlery to send the letter, leaving her friends in their study room off the Library.  When she walked out, Neville was leaned in close to Blaise and Draco, talking about a potions essay they were working on. Tracey and Theo were working with Millie on a Charms essay. Daphne and Pansy weren’t there, as this was just optional studying time.

After tying the letter to Hedwig’s leg, Heather looked out the open windows, shivering just a little in the cold air. She took a deep breath, wishing that she were the one outside flying instead of her owl, then turned and headed back into the warmth of the rest of the castle.  

 

oOo

 

The end of November was fast approaching, and student chatter at dinner that evening seemed to be entirely complaints about the amount of work the teachers were burying them in. Dessert had just appeared on the table when the large doors at the back of the room slammed open.  Silence fell quickly over the room as everyone turned to see who was making an entrance. Lucius Malfoy strolled down the aisle between the table, with an old woman on his arm. Her hair was pulled back tightly, and she was wearing a long green velvet dress. Her hat had a vulture on it, peering over the edge of the brim.  The only sound breaking the hush of the hall were the quiet taps of the cane Lucius carried and Lady Longbottoms heeled boots. Heather hid a smirk, and turned to see Dumbledore’s reaction. She schooled her expression to one of confusion and interest, something that was honestly on the face of most of the Gryffindors. Dumbledore sat in his throne, his forkful of lemon tart trembling in front of his mouth.  Slowly, he closed his mouth and set down the fork before speaking. “Lucius! And Augusta! What an unexpected surprise.”

Lucius smirked, his gloved hand tight on the snake head cane.  Augusta spoke for both of them, her voice creaky, but still strong. “Albus, I can’t imagine you’re actually surprised to see us, we have sent messages requesting a meeting for the past month.  Now, as you did not answer the last message, the meeting is to occur now. You do recall what was said, correct? Without a response, the meeting would be conducted in the Great Hall after dinner... Today.” She released Lucius’s arm and stepped forward.  “I do believe that dinner is over.” Her voice was loud enough to be heard in the silent Hall. The Slytherins worked hard to maintain their masks of polite disinterest, wanting to be able to lean closer like the Ravenclaws were doing. 

Dumbledore leaned back on the golden throne and stroked his beard. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m sure this is just a small misunderstanding.” His grandfatherly tone and the twinkle in his eyes did not disarm the two in front of him.  He stood, and gestured for the two to follow him. “My office will be more comfortable. Would you like some tea? Or perhaps some of this delightful lemon tart?” Lucius and Augusta followed in the wake of the headmaster’s grass green robes, ignoring the sheep frolicing around the hem.  Lucius smirked at his back, accepting the relocation without complaint.

As soon as the three left through the teacher’s door, whispering broke out amongst the students.  McGonagall glared at them, attempting to quell the discussion, but most of the other teachers were busy whispering with each other about the sudden visit.  Heather turned to Draco, who was sitting right beside her. “Did Uncle tell you that he was coming today?” 

Draco shook his head, pouting. “I don’t even know what this is about!”

Heather nodded, then turned to Pansy, the gossip queen of Slytherin. “Perhaps you’ll be able to find out more for us?” Heather didn’t bother sounding uninterested, everyone in the Hall knew that this was the most exciting thing to happen since Rita’s article.

Pansy nodded, a sharp smile showing on her face briefly, before it was covered by her normal bored expression. “I’ll let you know what I find out.” Heather smiled, knowing that if anyone could figure it out, it would be Pansy.  She already had contacts in every house and even Hogsmeade.

Soon enough, the students drifted back to the common room, distracted from the drama by talk of holiday plans.  An hour later, Snape appeared in a billow of black robes. “Potter! Come along, you have been... summoned,” he sneered. 

Heather frowned, quickly reviewing her extra curricular activities, before standing. She glanced at Millie in confusion, then trotted over to her head of house. “What’s happening, professor? Is something wrong?” 

Snape’s glared at her, but it was nowhere near as harshly as he glared at the Gryffindors, so Heather ignored it. “The headmaster has summoned you to discuss the Incident on Halloween.” 

Heather winced, realizing at once why Snape was so aggravated with her. “I see.” They left the common room, and as soon as the wall slid shut behind them, she continued, “I really am sorry that I caused so much trouble.” 

Snape nodded, and led her to the gargoyle statue guarding the headmaster’s office. “You will have more reasons to regret in just a moment.” He smirked, revelling just a little in the aggravation she was soon to face.  Annoyance shared was annoyance halved in his opinion.

Heather barely kept from rolling her eyes, and just nodded. “Does this mean that I won’t need to wash cauldrons this weekend?” Her tone was playful, and she smirked at the dour man as he glared at her again.

“If you continue this ... joke.. Then you can be prepared for two more months of Saturday mornings in the classroom.” The gargoyle moved aside when they paused in front of it, apparently not needing a password.

Heather sighed and shook her head. “Alright, you win.” They rode the spiral staircase up to the wooden door in silence.  Severus knocked on the door once, and was bid enter. Heather looked around, intrigued as she walked in. This was her first time in Dumbledore’s office, and it was not quite what she was expecting.  Where Snape’s office was dark and overwhelming with books and potions ingredients on display, Dumbledore’s office was just loud. The room was round, as it was in a tower, and despite its size it felt crowded.  There were several sitting areas, and a large desk in the center of the room. The walls were covered in portraits of old men and women, who were looking on in interest. There was a red and gold phoenix sitting on the perch right next to the desk.  The red and gold theme continued throughout the room, with rugs, chairs, and even an old Gryffindor pennant. Small tables and shelves were covered in silver ornaments, most of which moved, clicking, humming, or puffing small bits of smoke. Some of them managed all three. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, looking old and tired.  In front of him sat Lucius and Augusta. Standing awkwardly off to the side was Professor Quirrell, along with McGonagall, Ron, Neville, and Hermione. Heather shot Neville a quick smile, before turning to look at the adults in the center of the room. She quickly composed herself, tilting her head a little and opening her eyes bigger to look innocent and younger than she normally appeared.  

Dumbledore, sounding older and more tired than he had in the Hall earlier that evening, gestured at the students. “As you can see, Augusta, Lucius, here are the witnesses to the unpleasantness over Halloween.  Ask them what you will.” 

Lucius shot an annoyed look at Dumbledore for the familiarity, but looked at the students and professor. “For those who do not know us, I am Lord Malfoy, and my companion is Dowager Lady Longbottom.  We are here as representatives of the Board of Governors, to assess the safety of the school. After the attack on Halloween, we began an investigation to determine exactly what happened, and how it could be prevented in the future.” Lucius looked gravely serious, and met each child’s eyes.  

Ron grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the blond lord speaking to them. Lucius smirked at him, then continued, “This shouldn’t take much of your precious free time, but it must be concluded immediately.  We will both meet with each of you. I’m sure that a private room can be arranged?” He asked, turning his focus to the headmaster. 

Dumbledore nodded.  “Of course. Since most of the children are Gryffindor, Minerva can sit in as a guardian.” 

Heather frowned and shot a worried glance to Snape, who was scowling off to the side. “I can manage one interview, Albus.” He gritted out the words, frustrated with the high handed way he was being brushed aside.  

“Oh. But Miss Potter, I’m sure you would feel more comfortable with--” Dumbledore kept pushing, trying to bring her closer to the lions.

Heather bit her lip and looked down at her hands, twisting together in her lap in feigned nervousness. “Headmaster, it’s alright.  Professor Snape is my Head of house, and Hogwarts a History states that he acts in the stead of my guardian while I’m at school. I don’t want any suspicion on the investigation, over following the rules.” Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth as she turned her doe eyes to Lucius and Augusta. “I just want to do the right thing.” 

Severus turned to study the bookshelf beside him.  His occlumency shields were tight enough that he wouldn’t lose control of his expression, but that girl! Every once in a while, she reminded him why she had been sorted into his house.

Minerva cut in, her brogue more audible than normal. “Quite right! Now, Miss Granger, you’ll go first, then Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom.  Miss Potter, you will go last. Quirus, you will follow the students.”

Ron glared at Lucius, then turned to McGonagall. “Do I have ta? This is prolly just some plot by that slimy snake to get Professor Dumbledore in trouble! I heard all about--”

Lady Longbottom raised a grey eyebrow at Ron, then looked to Dumbledore. “I do hope that this child is not calling me a snake.  I don’t see how it matters, but I was a Ravenclaw when I attended Hogwarts.” Her voice was dry, and annoyed.

Heather looked around the office while Dumbledore smoothed the ruffled feathers and assured Ron that he was required to speak.  Her eyes were caught by a small portrait of a headmaster, who was staring right at her. He had sharp dark eyes and a pointed beard.  He was wearing green edged with silver, and smirked at her approvingly. She glanced around, to make sure that the rest of the room was occupied, then returned his smirk.  She could just make out the plaque under his portrait-- Phineas Nigellus Black. She mouthed to him, “Find me later?” He nodded, intrigued by what this girl might wish to talk about.

Heather stood in a hallway outside of an unused classroom, right next to Neville, while Ron glared at her from across the hall.  She bumped shoulders with Neville and offered him a small smile. He whispered, “I’m still not sure why my gran is here. She didn’t seem worried about the whole thing when it happened.” 

Heather frowned, and spoke quietly. “I’d bet that she didn’t know about you taking on a mountain troll when she first wrote you about Halloween. She probably didn’t find out until your letter.  And Unc-- Lord Malfoy,” she shot a glance over to Weasley before continuing, “I know Draco wrote him, and the Board hadn’t heard about anything.” 

Neville nodded slowly, thinking it all over. Before they had a chance to continue the conversation, Hermione was limping out of the room, and heading back towards her tower.  She ignored Ron completely, and shot an unreadable look at Heather before leaving. Heather frowned, not understanding the reaction. She had successfully avoided both of the problematic Gryffindors for weeks now, and not knowing what the girl was thinking was upsetting.  Luckily, Ron was taken in to the room next. Neville turned to speak to her again, when he dramatically paled and snapped his mouth shut. Heather looked over her shoulder to see what was coming, only to see her Head of House stalking down the hall to join them. His steps were as quiet as ever, and his robes billowed as he walked, snapping in their own breeze.  Heather smirked at him, enjoying the aesthetic. She sobered as she turned back to Neville. “I’m sure it’ll go ok, Nev.” 

He nodded, looking back down at his hands as they twisted together in worry.  Heather shook her head, then sent out a little of her magic, hoping to calm her friend a little.  She sent just the barest trickle, not wanting to draw anyone’s eye. She could tell the moment the magic touched his aura, without even looking at it.  Immediately he took a deep, steady breath and straightened his spine. He closed his eyes, looking more centered by the moment, then shot her a knowing look.  He whispered, “Thanks, Heather.” 

The door slammed open and Ron Weasley stomped out.  His face looked like a thundercloud, and he glared at Heather.  His fists were clenched, and his face was an ugly shade of red that clashed with his hair.  Heather angled her shoulders a little so that she was no longer leaning against the wall, more prepared to run or fight, and her hand drifted closer to the pocket holding her wand.  She kept her expression calm, but her eyes were wary. Ron burst out angrily, “Professor Dumbledore is a great man! He shouldn’t have to answer questions about stupid stuff like this.  I know this is your fault,” he growled, attempting a death glare.

Heather decided she was done with letting Ron yell at her and that something must be done.  She brought her hands to her face, almost covering her eyes, but not quite. Tears welled up, and her voice wobbled when she spoke, “I--I don’t know why you’re so mad at me, I didn’t do anything, but you keep--” Her words cut out and she covered her face, letting a small sob slip out.  She quickly dashed the liquid from her eyes, and straightened up, her lips trembling. 

Ron paled, the angry red washing out off of his face completely, he reached a hand for her before aborting the motion and taking a step back, “Oh no.. Merlin’s beard, don’t cry!  Please! Don’t-- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to yell at you, please just don’t cry!” 

Heather quickly turned her back, burying her face in Neville’s shoulder.  “Ron, really, I think you should just ... just go.” Neville sounded worried and tired.

As soon as Heather heard his retreating footsteps, her head popped up, no sign of her previous upset. “And there we go.” She grinned at Neville, satisfied.

“You mean-- That was an act?! Merlin, Heather, that was...” He raked his hand through his hair and shook his head wonderingly. “How did you know that would work?” 

She smirked, straightening her hair. “He’s got a younger sister in that giant family of his, right? Tears almost always work on guys like him.” 

“An astute observation, Miss Potter,” drawled Snape from his place in the hall.  Heather winced, having forgotten that he was there. She knew that he wouldn’t fall for her tears, after seeing that, but if it put Ron off of harassing her, it was worth it.  Her dour head of house didn’t seem to be the sort to be swayed by tears, anyway.

Before they could continue talking, Neville was called into the room. Heather spoke quietly, “Thanks for cutting in earlier.  I don’t think Dumbledore would have given in if I was the only one to speak up. I like Professor Mcgonagall, but..”

He nodded once, and spoke softly. “More than likely, no, he wouldn’t have. The headmaster is a very certain individual.” 

Heather nodded, filing away another quirk of the headmaster’s, one that she hoped to be able to use against him in the future.  The door opened, Minerva called them into the room, while she left. The chairs and desks in this old classroom were mostly pushed up against the walls, except a collection of four chairs in the center of the room.  Lord Malfoy stood as she approached, and offered his hand. Heather took it, squeezing gently, and offering a slight curtsey as his wife had taught her over the summer. Lady Longbottom nodded approvingly, and drew her grandson off to the side of the room for a conversation.  Neville looked cautiously hopeful, and Heather smiled to see it.

Lucius gestured for her and Snape to take a seat, while they waited for the older lady to return.  “I see that you’re wearing the bracelet Narcissa sent you, she’ll be glad to know that her gifts were appreciated.” 

Heather caressed the vine like silver bracelet, with enameled emerald green leaves. “Her taste is exquisite. I know I wrote her, but I really can’t wait until I can tell her in person.” She smiled at the blond lord, her gratitude and happiness clear.  

Lucius smiled back at her, not even smirking for once.  “Not much longer, then.” They heard the door close behind them, and Lady Longbottom returned.  Both men stood immediately and waited for her to sit before reclaiming their seats. 

The older lady studied Heather, before smiling approvingly and offering her hand. “I have heard a great deal about you, Heiress Potter.”  Heather returned her smile, blushing just a touch, and squeezing her hand gently. 

“I hope that it was good, then.” 

Augusta smirked, “It was intriguing.  Not many first years have taken on a troll within the school walls.” 

Heather frowned, wrinkling her nose a little. “Hogwarts hasn’t been anything like the muggle schools I’ve attended.  I didn’t even know trolls were real until Halloween!” 

“So that’s true? You were raised by muggles?” She sneered, “How did they teach you about your estate?  Your manners are excellent, did they hire tutors?” 

Heather shifted uncomfortably in her seat before forcing herself to remain still.  She lifted her chin stubbornly. “My relatives didn’t mess about with anything magical.  I went to school and took extra classes on dance and French. I like to read, though, so I’ve learned a lot.” 

Augusta looked at Lucius in disbelief, then back to Heather. “Intriguing.  Neville tells me that you’re a good friend of his?” 

Heather smiled, not the true smile she gave Lucius earlier, but a pretty, practiced thing that always did well at garden parties.  “He’s such a nice boy. I met him on the train, and he’s been so helpful. You must be proud!” 

The older woman nodded slowly. “Of course we are.  Now, on to the point of this meeting. We need you to describe the events of the Halloween troll attack, paying close attention to the timeline.” 

Heather nodded slowly, thinking over the timeframes.  “I don’t have a watch, so I can’t tell you exact times.” They nodded, and she continued. “We heard about the troll from Professor Quirrell, about halfway through dessert.  The headmaster almost sent everyone back to their dorms, but he was reminded that the troll and the Slytherin dorms were both in the dungeons, so he reconsidered.” 

Lucius’s jaw tightened visibly, and he squeezed his cane tightly in his hand.  Off on a desk to the side, a quill continued taking down the information. Heather spared it a quick glance before continuing. “I realized that Neville, Weasley, and Granger weren’t there after about.. Maybe ten minutes? I wasn’t sure when they left, but I think it was before news about the troll.  The other Gryffindors told me where they were, and I went to go warn them. I figured they were really far from the basement, it’d be safe enough if I was fast.” She shook her head, frowning. “I got up to the third floor bathroom as fast as I’ve ever made it up there. It was like.. I dunno, another ten minutes? When I got there, I could hear the troll in the bathroom, along with the yelling.” She shivered, hugging herself, only exaggerating a little. “When I got in there, Neville was unconscious and Granger’s leg was broken with the bone sticking out.  There was blood everywhere. Weasley was trying to stop the troll, but it hadn’t worked. I tried to float it’s club out of its hands, but I’m really not great at charms, and it didn’t work. Finally, I blinded it with an overpowered lumos, and managed to cast a tripping jinx. It rammed into the wall hard enough to knock itself out. Weasley was fine, until he looked at Granger’s leg, and then he passed out.”

Augusta nodded, frowning. “And how long would you say the fight lasted?” 

Heather shook her head. “Not sure, it seemed like forever, and like it flashed past in the blink of an eye. The teachers all showed up while I was trying to figure out how to get everyone to the hospital wing.” 

Severus shook his head. “That story sounds more insane every time I hear it.” 

Heather nodded. “Nothing this crazy ever happened at my old schools.  I mean, one time there was that janitor who got in trouble for ...” She looked at the pureblood lady in front of her, “But that’s not why we’re here.  Did you have more questions about the troll?” 

Severus carefully hid his smirk, maintaining his dispassionate mask. Lucius shook his head. “I think that will be all, Miss Potter.”

She nodded and smiled at them both. “I really appreciate you checking this out.  I haven’t really felt as safe here as I did before. Everyone talks about how safe Hogwarts is, but Granger’s leg still isn’t all the way healed.”

Snape cut in, “The injuries have been healed, she is simply failing to accept it.” 

Heather nodded slowly. “I didn’t know that your own mind could make you not able to heal completely.” 

Augusta nodded, “The mind is a powerful thing. Until she believes herself healed, she will not be better.  I do hope that the rest of the year goes better for you, Miss Potter. If we have further questions...” 

Heather nodded, “Please just owl me if you need anything more.” With that, Heather stood, shook hands all around, and walked out.  Lucius drew Severus off to the side, while Augusta looked over the notes. In the hallway, Quirrell was standing on his own, wringing his hands nervously.  Heather studied him, catching the moment when his attitude changed. His eyes flashed crimson, he straightened up, and stopped wringing his hands. He still looked exhausted and worn thin, but more confident.  “Professor, I’d like to meet with you sometime soon to discuss... a mutual acquaintance.” 

Quirrel smirked, an expression that looked out of place on the nervous man’s face, but nodded. “Of course.  After Thursday’s meeting.” She nodded accepting the time, and returned to her dorm, only to fall straight into bed and sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, guys! The two updates a week schedule was too much for me, now that school is wrapping up and my kids are pulling me in a million different directions. Right now, I'm going to aim for once a week.


	24. Meeting with Quirrellmort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather meets with Quirrell, and there are many discussions. The year is swiftly approaching it's end.

CHAPTER 24

 

Heather went through the next couple of days in a bit of a haze.  So much had happened, that she just had to spend time settling her thoughts and straightening up her memories before she could really focus on the next step.  Finally, after spending an hour meditating for three days in a row, she was able to start planning. Her meeting with Quirrell was scheduled for the next evening, and she didn’t want to look like a fool in front of him.  She opened her notebook, ready to write another list, when she froze, a thought hitting her like a bludger to the face. “Wait-- One of the necromancy books has a section on soul magic. Maybe...” She darts into her trunk, grabbing both of the illegal books and sitting down on her bed to find the section she half remembered.

“There! That’s it. Leverage.” She grins, sharp toothed and satisfied, now that she has something to bargain with.  She settles in with her notebook, taking down the highlights, so she knows what she can offer. 

The next evening, Heather sat down in front of Quirrell after the rest of the assistants left.  He stood behind the desk, straightening out his nervous stooped posture. His eyes sharpened, and he smirked, looking far more like Marvolo than the weak chinned Quirrell ever should.  He pulled out the wand, grimaced at it briefly, and waved it, casting privacy spells. Heather waited patiently until he was done, before she spoke. She kept her back straight, and her face and eyes calm.  “Your.. other part.. Told me what’s going on. And he asked for my help, but I have some conditions.” Quirrell sat down, gracefully, and steepled his hands in front of his face, resting his elbows on the desk. 

“And why should I listen to you and your conditions?” He sounded smugly superior. “You’re a mere child, there’s no way that you could impose your will upon the great Lord Vol--”

Heather cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to meet with me? I mean, I am one of your horcruxes...” 

His eyes flashed red, and he hissed angrily, “Just how much has that blasted fragment told you?! It shouldn’t even be able to speak!” 

Heather remained in her seat, impassive in the face of his anger.  She could feel the echo of his power, but it was nowhere near as strong as someone like him should have.  “Do you want to know the conditions? And the help I’m offering? Or would you prefer to try and steal the stone out from under the headmaster’s nose alone?” 

His mouth fell open briefly before he snapped it shut. “What are you?  No, never mind. Tell me what you want and what you’re offering.” He leaned back in the chair, his temper mastered as quickly as it was lost.

Heather made a mental note about the mood swings, before she continued. “I don’t want to fight in some stupid war.  I want to survive, to make my own way, and I won’t be held back. I won’t be your puppet, and I won’t sit in some tower.  And... I want Dumbledore to pay.” She grinned, showing far too many teeth, before sobering. “As to what I can offer in exchange... You want a body of your own, right?” 

Quirrell blinked several times, his ruby red eyes stunned.  “How can a child give me a body? I’ve been searching this whole year to determine how to get a proper body back, and I’ve found nothing!” 

“You really shouldn’t underestimate me just because I’m only eleven. I found a ritual in a book from the Peverell Vault.” His eyes got huge, but he was left speechless, so Heather continued. “The only problem is... We have to get all of your horcruxes together, first.  You’ll have to use most of them, or else the ritual might fail. Marvolo said that you made at least five, other than him. We can probably get by without all of them, but you’re definitely going to need at least the first two.” 

Quirrell nodded, thinking. “I suppose that traitorous fragment told you what they were?” She nodded wordlessly. “What’s to stop me from getting this book and just casting the spell on my own?” He smirked, no hint of warmth in his eyes.

Heather took a deep breath, leaned slightly closer to him and whispered, “The only one who can cast this? Is a necromancer.” 

Quirrell’s mouth fell open again, and the stunned look from earlier was clearly visible. “You---  But---” He stopped, unable to finish the sentence. He stood quickly, and turned to look out the window, his hands clasped behind his back.  She could see him staring out into the darkness of the early winter night in the reflection of the glass. “I see. It seems that we have much to discuss, Miss Potter.” 

Heather nodded, looking over his worn out, drawn face. “I can get a contract drawn up and bring it back after the break.” 

“A contract? No Unbreakable Vow?” He smirked. “Very muggle of you, Miss Potter.” 

Heather returned his smirk, “A magically binding contract. I don’t know if you’ll be bound by a Vow, and we both want more than we could say simply enough for a promise.” 

He nodded slowly. “I see.  I will require some proof that you can fulfill your side of the bargain before I’m willing to sign anything.” 

Heather smirked. “You’ll have proof before the New Year.”  He raised an eyebrow, but Heather was immune to the wordless request for information, after constant exposure to Marvolo’s looks. He soon ushered her to the door, and she returned to her room to do some more research.  

oOo

 

Heather sat down for lunch, her mind occupied with the main points of the contract she wanted drawn up, when she noticed Draco attempting to get her attention.  He kept shifting in place, clearing his throat, and looking vaguely uncomfortable. Finally, she spoke to him. “Is something the matter, Draco?” she drawled lazily.  “You look like someone cast an itching jinx on you.” 

He flushed, protesting. “No! But, Pansy... She wants to know what you’re going to wear, and Daphne is impatient to make sure that everyone coordinates, and--”

Heather tilted her head, looking at him in confusion. “Draco... we wear uniforms.” 

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in through his nose, letting it out slowly through his mouth, frustration clear in every line of his body. “For the Yule Ball.” 

She straightened, then cast a glance to the other first year girls and back to him. “OH! Yeah, of course.  What did you do to get nominated to ask?” She smirked at him, taking pleasure in his annoyance. Aggravating the pompous blond was fun, as long as she didn’t push him too far.  

He grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest, then said petulantly, “I lost a bet.” 

Heather covered her laugh, her eyes dancing.  “I believe I will be well outfitted. Your mother is the one who helped me shop this summer, and I think she might have been planning to invite me even then.” 

Pansy’s eyes lit up from her spot a couple people away. “Lady Malfoy took you shopping? Excellent! What colors are you wearing? How low is the neckline?” Her eyes sparkled and she glowed with excitement. 

“Um, well. It’s green, of course, because of my eyes. But if you’d like, I’ve got it almost ready, you can come see it after classes today.” Heather looked slightly uncomfortable for the first time. 

“Almost ready? But...” Pansy’s eyes sharpened, and flicked to the embroidery that Heather had added to the cuffs of her robes. “Oh, I can’t wait,” she purred, a predatory look in her eyes.

Millie snorted. “Now you’ve done it.  Once you let Pansy into your wardrobe, you’ll never have control of it again. I mean, just because her aunt’s a fashion designer, you’d think she was the sole authority.” 

Pansy tipped her snub nose into the air, “I’ll have you know that she’s not just a designer, she’s the top designer in Paris, three years running!” Everyone who heard her rolled their eyes, obviously having heard this a million times. 

Heather nodded slowly. She felt a twinge of nervousness in her belly.  The clothes she had at Hogwarts were the nicest she’d ever owned, the first ones that she had bought already made and brand new.  Tracey kicked her foot under the table, and smiled reassuringly. She whispered, while the others started bickering, “Don’t worry, she’ll love your things.  And if she says anything, just hex her.” 

Heather grinned, and nodded. “Good idea. I read a cool hex in this book the other day.  It makes the victim feel like someone is staring at them all day long, for a whole week!” Theo leaned in closer so he could join the discussion, while Draco was dragged over to discuss the theme for the ball, plus everything he had heard about who was wearing what with Daphne and Pansy.

That evening, Heather took a few moments to gather herself in the girls bathroom before entering the Common Room. She studied herself critically in the mirror, smoothing out her braids and washing her hands to give her extra time to think.  _ Why am I so nervous?? I wasn’t anywhere near this nervous when I met with Neville’s gran, or with the Malfoys the first time.  Well.. Maybe the Malfoys.  _ She turned away from the mirror taking several deep breaths to calm down.  _ If Pansy talks shit about my clothes, I can just punch her.   _ She stopped and shook her head abruptly.  _ No, I can’t get caught punching her. She’d ruin my reputation.  I’ll just have to make sure she likes it. I’ll just keep tabs on her aura, see how she’s feeling, and make sure that I show her the right things.  Aunt Cissa wouldn’t have sent me here with bad clothes, and no one has said anything mean yet.  _ Heather tried to shove the memories of the things she overheard the other girls saying about her back at primary school back, but it was hard.  Finally, she gathered herself, and swept out of the bathroom, chin up, shoulders back, spine straight. 

She entered the common room, and gestured for Pansy to join her as she went to her room. Her emotions were high, and her magic was swirling around her, snapping and cracking, instead of coiling gracefully.  The more sensitive of the Slytherins shivered, something setting them on edge. Draco’s eyes flashed to Heather, and he made a move to approach. She nodded acceptance, and he joined her and Pansy on the short walk to her room.  Having Draco there brought her a larger measure of control, and her magic began smoothing out. Still tense, but no longer about to attack. Draco could feel the difference and he shot a nervous smile to her. “Alright, Heather?” 

She nodded, her face still calm and pleasant. “Of course! Thanks for coming, I know that you know your mother’s tastes, and I want to make sure that I’ve got this right.  Do you know who all is on the guest list?” 

Draco nodded. “It’s shaping up nicely.  No one knows you’re coming, of course, but the Minister will be there, along with his undersecretary. All the Department Heads except for Weasley’s dad,” he sneered.  “It’s a good thing you’ve practiced your dancing. Everyone’s going to want to see you.” He smirked at her. “The Ambassadors for France and Spain, and maybe Russia will be there. Everyone’s parents are coming, of course.  And a few others. Old friends of my parents, you know?” He raised an eyebrow, and Heather nodded understandingly. 

_ So most of the Dark side of the war is going to be there.. I wonder what they’ll think of me?  _ She smiled at the other two, pretending as hard as she could that it didn’t worry her.  She ushered them both into her room. Leaving the door open, she walked over to her wardrobe and opened it up.  On one side were her uniforms, along with her weekend clothes. On the other side, were several different dressy outfits, along with a basket full of embroidery thread and other sewing supplies.  Pansy followed her closely, and reached inside without even being invited, carefully feeling the fabric. “Oo, acromantula silk. Very nice. Twilfit and Tattings?” Heather nodded mutely, and Pansy pulled it out.  “Oh Heather.... This is lovely.” She held the half embroidered dress up to Heather, then turned to Draco. “You said that this year’s theme was New Beginnings, right? This is going to be perfect.” 

Heather’s shoulders relaxed, as her magic touched Pansy’s aura, and she could feel her bubbly pleasure.  Draco leaned against the door frame, bored looking. “Why is it perfect?” he asked, out of obligation.

Pansy grinned at him, pleased that he was playing along. “Look, the silk is brocaded to look like feathers, and the embroidery...” She turned to Heather sharply. “You’re adding gold outlines to most of the feathers? And some small flames?” She grinned at Heather’s nod. “She’s making this a Slytherin Phoenix.” 

At that, Heather returned Pansy’s smile with a brilliant grin of her own. “You can tell already? I’ve only just started really.” She ran her hands gently over the full skirt.  “I’m glad it’s sleeveless. I’d never finish if I had to figure those out too. Oh, look what I’ve got to add later.” She pulled out a small jar full of red, gold, and orange seed beads.  Pansy nodded approvingly. 

“As long as you don’t add too much of that red, you’ll look great. You don’t want to look like a muggle Christmas tree.  Or a Gryffindor,” she sneered. She turned, looking over the rest of the things in Heather’s wardrobe. “Have you been doing this long? You’re pretty good.” She pulled a jacket out, a denim one that Heather had gotten from a thrift shop before embroidering the previous summer.  It was stone washed, and she had embroidered wildflowers all over it, all in shades of blue and purple.

Heather flushed. “That’s one I made last year, it’s my favorite before now, though.” 

Pansy nodded, examining the stitchwork closely, then the construction of the jacket.  She had a professional air to her, nothing like the flighty gossip persona she usually maintained. “It’s quite nice, even though it’s obviously muggle. You’ve got a good eye for design balance and color.” 

Heather smiled, relief clear in the way her magic subsides.  Draco pushed himself up off the doorway. “I’d best go, before Professor Snape..”  A throat cleared behind him and he slumps. “Oh.” 

Professor Snape glared at them. “And what, pray tell, is the cause of this violation of the rules?” 

Heather straightened and looks around. “What rule?” 

Snape sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “The one that states that young men are not allowed in a young lady’s room.”

Heather frowned. “But the door was open, and he wasn’t even really in the room.” 

Snape eyed Draco’s position, then the two girls looking at clothing. “Do not let it happen again.” Heather waited for him to swoop off, an annoyed Draco following him before she rolled her eyes. 

“I swear. I think he’s part ninja, the way he sneaks around everywhere.” Pansy looked at her puzzled by the reference, before turning back to the clothes. Heather mumbled, “How did he even know?” She tilted her head, and ignored Pansy for another minute while she carefully tried to examine the magic surrounding the rooms.  Opening up her eyes, with the very barest hint of her magic sight working, she looked to the walls and the doorway. There were dozens of different colored magics washed over the walls and floors, and even the ceiling. Pansy called for her, and she looked over.

Pansy asked her a question, but Heather didn’t hear it, her eyes caught on the gown she was embroidering for the Malfoy ball.  “Pansy? Is it possible to sew magic into a dress?” The gold thread that she was using to highlight the feathers was glowing a shade that was identical to the loops of magic spiralling throughout the room.

Pansy frowned, and looked over her shoulder. “Of course. They used to call them threadwitches.  Not many people bother with it, you can’t do any of the sewing by hand, and it takes so long.” Heather nodded, her mind awhirl with possibilities. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Samvelg, who writes The Historical Importance of Runic War Warding, (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695419/chapters/33957573), who has influenced my use of thread magic. I hope that this is a tribute to their amazing work. (Which everyone should read because it's freaking AMAZING)


	25. Continuing Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quite a few things have been happening! She speaks with Marvolo, and excitement afterwards.

CHAPTER 25

 

The next evening, Heather found herself in her mindscape, sitting in front of the fire, sipping her tea slowly, sunk deep into her thoughts.  Marvolo watched her while pretending to read his book in the other chair. After thirty minutes of silence, Heather finally broke it. “Marvolo? Why is the other part of you so... uncontrolled? It’s like.. Like,” she visibly struggled for words, a rarity for someone who frequently planned out conversations before having them. “He’s more impulsive than anyone I’ve met! I don’t understand.  You’re just a piece of him, and you’ve got tons of self control! Why is he so .. I don’t know, mad?” She frowned, not really liking the words she picked, but unable to find better ones.

Marvolo nodded, giving her a small frown. “I reviewed the memory of your meeting, like you wanted me to, and he was acting very strange.  Those fits of temper! I am obviously not myself anymore. How exactly are you going to help get me a body again? I can’t imagine my other part’s reaction if it’s delayed.” 

Heather sighed, sinking back into her chair and turning her whole focus to the handsome man beside her. “I found something in one of my books about how to heal a soul and knit it back together.  I’ll need to have most of the soul present, and do this ritual. Then I’ll be able to do another ritual to seal the soul. Once you’ve got enough soul, apparently getting a body is pretty easy... I’m not sure.  I think that the best day to do the first bit is Imbolc, then finish on Beltaine.” She frowned contemplatively, then nodded, refocusing on Marvolo. “Yeah. That’s the days. I’m worried though. I don’t know how much of you we need to get together in order to make this work.” She stares at him, searchingly, then looks back to the fire. “I have a feeling that I can make this work, but..” 

Marvolo nods, looking up at the ceiling in contemplation. “Much of magic, especially dark magic, is more about feelings than about certainties. I know they’ve been teaching you the principles of transfiguration, but the ‘laws’ they talk about... Well, they’re not entirely laws in my experience.  I am unsurprised that your books don’t speak in certainties and hard facts. I feel that you are a natural at this, as I am more myself than I was before.” 

She cut in, “Before you tried to kill me or before I let you out?” She smirked at him, and he glared.

“Insolent child.  Before both of those.  I think that you have begun healing me, before you even knew I was here.  Given how many horcruxes I had made before you..” He gazed off into the middle distance, and shook his head. “I should have been nothing but an echo, and yet..”

Heather nodded. “I think.. You said that there were lots of pieces. I need more of you if this is going to work. Before you wouldn’t tell me, but will you now?” 

Marvolo looked at her, searchingly.  “I can help you get two pieces, but you’ll need to ask the other part of me to get another two.”  

Heather shot him a look. “Just how many pieces did you carve yourself up into?” She shivered and pulled her teacup in closer to hoard the imaginary warmth. “That can’t be sanitary, leaving bits of your soul all over England.” 

He glared at her more fiercely than before. “I’ll have you know, there were solid arithmatic calculations behind my choices! Certainly, it was still theory, but how is one to test a theory without doing?” His glare faded quickly as his eyes lit with passion. “It should have worked perfectly.  Seven sections of soul, one of which is the primary, kept in a body.” He stood and started pacing. “Seven is a perfect number, of course. It has numerous properties that made it ideal. I mean, perhaps three would have worked, but the tie to muggle religion was too much. It could have been corrupted.  Seven was the obvious choice.” 

Heather watched him, her eyes huge.  She hadn’t seen him this passionate about anything before.  She couldn’t keep her mouth shut for long, though. “I guess? But it didn’t seem to really... work. How is just that little bit of soul supposed to support real magic?” 

He turned, his hands linked behind his back, his red eyes still glowing with passion. “But it should have! Next I have to determine where things went wrong, and then I can try again.” 

Heather popped to her feet. “No! I won’t help you if that’s what you’re going to do.  If you’re just going to carve yourself up into bits, then there’s no reason for me to even think about helping you.” She turned her back to him, unable to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. She quickly dashed away the angry tears, and spoke quietly without turning to face him.  “I have work to do, so I’ll see you later.” Her voice shook, but she clung to the formality as she opened her eyes in the real world, leaving Marvolo in her mindscape. 

His jaw dropped at her sudden anger and intense reaction, but he couldn’t speak before she had already disappeared.  He fell into his chair, a heap of long limbs, too deep in thought to bother with his normal grace. “How dare that child just leave me here! We were having a simple discussion, why is she even upset?” He glared at the fire, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly.

On the outside of the mindscape, Heather buried her face in her pillow, glad she hadn’t tried to speak to him while she sat in the library.  She screamed into the pillow, frustration and anger overtaking her. “How can he be such a damn idiot?! Doing the same stupid thing again?? After I fix him? No. I won’t. He can’t... I’ll just have to lock him back up if he’s going to act like that.  Maybe.. Maybe I can just kick him out.” She sat and thought, then shook her head. “No... He’s so helpful when he wants to be.” She considered all the different spells he had taught her, the intricacies of Slytherin house politics, and the general discussions. Finally, she sighed. “Maybe if he reads the book on soul magic, he’ll understand. If not...” 

 

oOo

For the next couple days, Heather just went through the motions.  She attended classes, did homework, chatted with her friends, but her focus was elsewhere.  Her guard was down, as Ron had continued to leave her alone, and Hermione was so deep in revision she didn’t even look up to eat.  Draco and Tracey made sure that none of the Slytherins got too close. After lunch, Heather had to run back to her room to pick up her homework, and she shooed her friends along, and just ran to get it on her own.  As she turned the corner for the last set of steps to the dungeon, she heard a voice behind her, “OI! Potter!” She turned to look, and someone grabbed her from behind, dragging her into an old classroom. Heather panicked. She started kicking and punching, trying to rip her arm out of the stronger boy’s grip.  “Wait! Wait, don’t-- OW!” Heather landed a particularly vicious kick to his shin, and finally slipped out of his grip. Before she could make a break for the door, another boy darted in and slammed it shut behind him. Heather looked, then blinked several times. It was the twin Weasleys. The one she kicked was rubbing his shin and checking his arm for bite wounds. “Merlin, girl! We just wanted to talk!” 

They seemed too startled by her reaction to indulge in their normal twinspeak, but Heather wasn’t complaining.  She looked from one to the other, finally remembering to pull her wand. “What the fuck do you two want with me?” She glared at them suspiciously, and backed towards the wall.  Her practiced cultured accent and wizarding curses were lost in her fear and anger, and she sounded far less like the public school scion she always strove for.

The uninjured twin raised his empty hands, “Seriously! Fred and I just wanted to talk! We have to know.”

The other one cut in, “What did you do?”

“To make,”

“Ronniekins stop,”

“Throwing fits at you,” they finished together.

Heather sighed and tucked her wand back in it’s pocket. “Are you two for real? You’re just going to kidnap me in the middle of the day, to talk about your dumb brother?” 

They shared a look, shrugged, and nodded. “Yes!” They chorused.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared balefully at the boys.  “Why? Are you gonna do something about it?” She was quickly getting ahold of her accent, reverting back to the one that Draco and Daphne used as she regained her calm.  She straightened her back, smoothed out her robes, and stepped back one more step away from the pair.  

Two pairs of brown eyes pleaded with her, pitiful pouts on both faces. “Please! You have to tell us! Nothing we do makes him stop, how’d you do it?” Each phrase traded between the two boys, and Heather huffed in annoyance. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you, but you’ll owe me and it won’t do you a bit of good.” They traded a glance, then nodded at her.  

“Deal!” They said in unison.  

Heather looked at them carefully, and felt them out with her magic.  The twin she had kicked, who was furthest into the room, had magic that smelled like rain on stone, and felt cool, slippery and quick.  The other one, who was still blocking her exit, had magic that smelled like the air after a lightning strike, and felt just as electric.  She gestured for him to move away from the door, and edged towards it. “You can’t tell anyone, or else.” They nodded wordlessly, eyes wide with interest.  Heather nodded sharply, looked away from them for a moment, then turned her face back to them. Her eyes were full of tears, and it looked like her heart was breaking.  Slowly, two fat tears slipped down her cheeks, and her lower lip trembled. She gasped, “I..I.. don’t.. Don’t even know!” She quickly buried her face in her hands and spun around.

Before either of the boys could speak, she turned, her lips twisted in a sardonic grin. “Wouldn’t do to make me cry in the corridors, would it?” Her eyes sparkled with mirth.  Both of the boys froze. They were reaching towards her, words of comfort on their lips. 

“Merlin’s saggy nutsack!  Err.. I mean..” They shook their heads and both stumbled back a couple steps.  The lightning twin continued, “Yeah, I don’t think that would work for us.. I can’t believe that Ron--” 

“Hang on, Fred, remember when Mum took away his pudding for weeks for making Ginny cry?” The other boy cut in.  Heather quickly studied them, edging towards the door while they exchanged significant glances. Given how surprised they were, she was pretty sure they had used the right names for once.  The twin she bit, the one who smelled of rain was George. It was worth giving up the crocodile tears to find out which was which. Even their brothers couldn’t seem to tell them apart reliably. 

The boys nodded to each other, and turned to her, just in time to see her slip through the door and disappear towards the dungeons.  Fred looked towards George, and they shared a sharp nod. “If we can get her in on our pranks, we’d never get busted.” 

George cut in, “Well, she’d never get busted... She might just throw us to the werewolves...”  Fred froze, then nodded slowly.  

 

oOo

 

Heather sat in her trunk sitting room, working on her dress for the Malfoy ball.  There had been no more excitement that day, and she was grateful for the peace. She carefully relaxed her hold on her magic, letting it spool out to spin around the room in lazy spirals. It felt like taking a deep breath after wearing a too tight dress all day.  She’d kept her magic wrapped up tight almost the whole time at school, not wanting to attract attention from the Headmaster, and the relief was incredible. She looked over her sewing supplies and the dress in front of her trying to see how she had managed to imbue the thread with her magic.  Slowly she spun her magic down to a fine tendril, as thin as a strand of her hair, and wrapped it around the thread in her hand. She held her breath, her heart in her throat as she worked to wrap the two together. She managed to get her meter long piece of thread wrapped in golden magic. It spiraled down the thread, glowing brilliantly.  She grabbed the end to thread the needle, turning her focus to the silver eye. The moment she switched her focus, the magic slipped off the thread, rejoining the spiral filling the room.

Heather stopped, staring at the magic then the thread, frustrated.  It had taken more than an hour to get the magic wrapped around properly, and it just fell apart?  She huffed, “Why is this so hard?! I was doing it the whole time without even--” She stopped, her eyes getting big, and lighting up with excitement. “I was doing it without even thinking about it.  It isn’t hard, I’m just doing it wrong.” She quickly threaded the needle, and picked up the green silk in front of her. She leaned close, prepared to slip the needle into the fabric and froze again. “I... I don’t want to risk messing this up.  This is the prettiest thing I’ve ever owned.” She stroked the fabric again, and reached over to grab a silk handkerchief from her sewing basket. She smoothed it out, and picked out where she would start. Right as she slipped the silver needle into the white silk, she had her magic spin around her hand, soaking into the thread naturally as it ran through her fingers.  She soon sank into the quiet state that embroidery allowed her to reach, her mind separate from her body. As she did, she made a point to focus on the thread as she worked it through. After just a few minutes, she stopped, looking down at the spiral she started in simple stem stitch. The feathers she had already picked out on her gown glimmered with her golden magic. The spiral glowed.  She grinned, and worked on moderating the amount of magic. Once she got it down to a level that wasn’t quite so blinding, she set aside her practice piece and started on her dress.  Several hours later, she finally pulled herself out of her meditative state, having made significant progress.  She put away her supplies, her needle last of all. “I wonder.. What if I had a needle made out of something else? Maybe one with runes? I wonder what I could do with that...  Neville’s doing so much better with his new wand, maybe if I had something that channeled my magic more naturally....” She drifted back out of her trunk, lost in thought of the possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I struggled so much with this chapter, but I think it might be because it's several different scenes that aren't really tied together. Thanks for your patience! Next time, we should have end of winter term excitement! I'm looking forward to some of the next few scenes.


	26. Goodbyes and Hellos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the last day of term, and Heather has quite a bit to get accomplished before she can relax over break.

Chapter 26

 

Heather carefully examined the room.  She had laid out the white candles in a circle, thirteen of them, as big around as her fist.  The circle they marked was just big enough for her to sit with her legs crossed. Right on schedule, Quirrell slipped into the room.  He shut the door behind him, and stood against the wall, quietly watching her. His eyes glowed red in the darkness, and it was obvious that Voldemort was in full control.  She warded the door, using the same charm she used on her bed, that Marvolo had taught her before school began. It wasn't strong enough to keep out a teacher, but given how late it was, no one else was likely to appear.  Voldemort’'s lips quirked as he watched her ward the room, recognizing one of his favorite spells. The air in the room was heavy and silent, anticipatory. Heather took one more deep breath, in through the nose, then blew it out her mouth, centering herself.  She then slipped off her school robes, revealing the long white nightgown underneath. She smoothed her hand over the softened linen, then stepped up into the chair, then onto the desk holding the array of candles. She sank down to her knees and tucked the gown underneath.  She lifted up the candle directly in front of her, then looked around one last time.

The History of Magic room was silent, the student tables and Voldemort watching with expectation.  Moonlight flooded the room, the half moon clearly visible from the opened curtains. Her position, on Binns' desk, was jarring, but it still felt like the best place to be.  She blew slowly over the candle in front of her, calling upon her magic to light the wick. An ember flickered, then burst into a golden light. The room was cast in shadows, the moonlight fading from view as 12 other candles flickered into life.  Heather set down the candle in front of her, in the only open position. The air in the room grew heavier, as her magic swirled around. This was not the lazy spiral of relaxation, this time her magic had a purpose, and the spin was monitored, regulated tightly at the right speed and size.  None of her magic went beyond the area at the front of the classroom, between the tables and the door to the professor's office. Heather's eyes drifted shut, as she spoke aloud. "I call upon you, Janus, the gatekeeper. God of beginnings and endings, the changing of one into another. Heed my plea. There is one who has stayed overlong in your realm, and must move forward, ending his time in between."  She took a deep breath, her eyes remaining shut. The air in the room crackled with magic, the smell of ozone overwhelming the usual dust and chalk smell. Voldemort's mouth dropped open, his red eyes enormous. He had never felt anything like this before. Heather reached into a wide pocket of her gown, and pulled out two sickles. "I have the offering for the ferryman, that none may deny him passage." She laid them down, just outside her circle, careful not to let her long sleeve catch in the candle.  "I have an offering of life," as she spoke, she set down a potted flower. "I have an offering of death." She laid a withered rose next to the other two gifts. "I have an offering of beginning and ending." She set an iris bulb down, and then a leaf, still colored orange from the fall. She then grabbed the silver goblet, sitting unnoticed to the side, and set it between the candles and her offerings. She took a deep breath, centering herself, then held her wrist above the goblet. She pulled a silver knife from her other pocket, and pressed it gently against her skin, until it parted.  Steadily she continued, watching her blood drip into the goblet. "Take these offerings, and allow Professor Binns his rest in the Summerlands. No longer may he linger here, caught in between both worlds. Allow him the peace that he has earned. And if he has not earned it, give him the torment that he deserves. Take this, my blood, as payment." As soon as the last word echoed into the nearly empty room, she pulled her arm back and covered it with her other hand, the knife falling onto the desk in front of her knees. 

The whole of Hogwarts seemed to hold it's breath for five long seconds.  Just when she was tempted to look up, a breeze rushed through the room. Forgotten papers swirled in the air, but the candles surrounding Heather remained steady.  A presence filled the room, pressing hard against the two people. Heather remained steady, having hoped for this outcome. Voldemort flinched back against the wall, struggling to draw breath in the heady atmosphere.  He clung tightly to Quirrell’s mind, and stayed as still and quiet as possible. He had no desire to draw the attention of anyone in this room. Heather opened her eyes and smiled just a little. No one spoke, but they could both feel something pressing against their minds, and the word, "ACCEPTED" was planted.  Suddenly, Binns appeared in front of her, frozen in terror. He looked around wildly, whispering to himself, "No, no no, it can't be, no, I can't go, don't make me!" His voice quavered with terror, and he was shaking. The offerings laid out in front of Heather vanished, except the money. The money floated off the desk, until it was pressed into Binns' hands.  He tried to drop it, continuing to whisper pleas to remain, but the money remained in his hand. A figure, cloaked in twilight shimmered until it was almost visible. It inclined it's head to Heather. It rested a hand on the ghost's shoulder, and turned around. The other face, on the back of it's head was now visible. It smirked at Heather's wide eyes, and whispered, "Well done, little necromancer."  Both the ghost and the god disappeared, without even a whisper. 

The moment they were gone, the candles winked out.  Moonlight again washed over the room, and the scent of ozone was gone.  Heather took a deep breath and slowly started pulling her magic back in.  She wavered, more tired than she had been since coming to Hogwarts. This wasn't the tiredness of staying up too late, but the bone deep exhaustion of overwork.  Voldemort quickly walked up to her, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed in thought. "What have you done, you foolish girl?"

Heather smiled up at him tiredly, before looking back down at her candles and knife.  The goblet still stood outside the circle, but it was as clean as it had been before the ritual began.  "You wanted proof I could help you. I wanted a real teacher for History of Magic. It seemed like the perfect solution."

He pinched his nose, casting his eyes up at the ceiling, then back down at her. "Offering your blood to a god? Do you have any idea the risk?" He grabbed her arm and pulled it closer to him, examining the small cut.  He flicked his wrist and his wand popped into his hand from the arm holster. He glared at Quirrell's wand, then looked back at her. "I hate this wand, but..." He held it over her arm, and cast a minor healing spell. The wand shivered in his hand for a moment, but seemed to almost sullenly agree to do as he wanted.  Her arm soon looked as it had earlier that day, only a thin crust of dried blood to show where the injury had been. "I.. I need to think about this. But yes, you have proven your ability." He shook his head in disbelief. "I trust you can return to your room without incident?" Without waiting for an answer, he swept out of the room.  Heather noticed the moment that Voldemort allowed Quirrell the use of his body, as he stumbled right before they reached the door. Quirrell's pale blue eyes caught hers as he looked over his shoulder before leaving quietly.

Heather slowly gathered her things, relaxing into the feeling of a successful ritual.  She was still exhausted, but it was the pleasant sort, like after running a race. She soon had her things sorted, and scourgified the desk, to make sure that no trace of blood remained.  She looked around one more time, frowning. "I don't want anyone to be able to feel what I did... I can still taste the magic in the air." She looked around again, then her eyes lit up as she eyed the windows.  She set her things down and opened all of the windows as wide as she could, letting in the cold, damp Scottish winter air. She shivered, and pulled her robe tighter around her body. "That should do it," she whispered.  She then slipped out of the door and back to the common room.  

 

oOo

Heather barely remembered getting back to her bed, but she must have managed it successfully as she didn't get caught.  It was the day everyone who was leaving would take the Hogwarts Express back to London, and everyone was excited. Results for midterm grades and class standings were to be posted at the start of the breakfast feast. The Slytherin Common Room was a hotbed of gossip and betting that morning. The sixth years seemed to have cornered the market on running the books, and there was a lot of debate over which students would have a mental breakdown over their placement, who would be first in each class, and most importantly, who ended up in last place.  Heather watched all the conversation with interest. She leaned over to Draco, who was right next to her, as per usual, and whispered, "How much money do they wager? Do the other houses bet on this?"

Draco smirked, "The other houses are all too poor for our games. I've heard that the 'Claws don't care about anything but top three in each year, and top Ravenclaw. Hufflepuffs don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, so they don't bet.  I'm not really certain that the Gryffindorks realize they're enrolled in classes."

The first years surrounding them all snickered along with Heather. She strode across the room, up to the 6th yr boy recording bets in his book. "What are the odds on a first year having a mental breakdown?"

He sneered, "At midterms? Non-existent. 100-1."

One of the girls next to him smirked. "First years don't break down until the end of the year. The only ones that do that are Ravenclaws."

Heather smirked at him. "Put me down for twenty galleons on Hermione Granger."

He raised an eyebrow at her, looking her up and down. "The Gryffindor mu-muggleborn? Alright then.  Twenty from Potter on Granger throwing a wobbler." Heather ignored the near slip, and nodded before heading for the exit, the rest of the first years and her third year falling into formation at her back.  This had become such a habit that no one even watched them leave anymore, and there was no jockeying for position at the rear of the pack. Everyone knew exactly how much precedence they had and fell into line. 

Rather than going straight to the Great Hall, the group descended upon the entrance, waiting for the lists to appear.  The room slowly filled as more and more students from various houses joined them, all waiting on the results. Draco leaned over to speak quietly to Heather. "Parents get a copy of the rankings for their student's year.  Mother and Father will probably know before lunch how we did." Heather nodded, contemplatively.

"What did they promise you for top in your classes?"  She was just guessing, but Draco had a greedy look in his eyes, that she had seen when he was eying the last tart for pudding.  It was scarily similar to the look on her cousin's face most of the time, but she did her best to forget him and focused on Draco.

"If I do well enough at midterms, they're taking me to France for a new wardrobe."  Heather stifled the giggle that wanted to escape, and just nodded seriously at him. Her dancing eyes betrayed her amusement, but Draco was too busy fidgeting to even look at her.

 

oOo

 

Heather shot Draco a smirk.  "Aren't you glad you didn't bet against me?"

Draco grumbled under his breath, then offered, "How were you so sure that Granger would start screaming over midterm results?"

She rolled her eyes and carefully started cutting up the pancakes on her plate. "Seriously? I've seen a dozen girls like her at home.  I bet she's never gotten anything lower than a perfect score on every single test her whole life. You think a girl like that is going to take coming in sixth overall well?"  She turned to Theo and Tracey. "Great work on Charms and Astronomy."

Tracey smiled at her hesitantly, "Are you sure you're not mad that we beat you?"

Heather laughed, "Why would I be angry? We all studied together, right? And we all worked hard? So you did better this time.  Draco did best in Potions. I got best in Transfiguration and History. Neville scored highest in Herbology. Why waste my energy getting mad over that?  I'm proud of all of you!" She turned to look up the table a few seats. "And you! Montegue, great work. I heard that you've really improved this year."  The curly haired boy smiled at her, blushing.

"Thanks, Heather.  Explaining some of those runes to you really did help. I think at least half the questions on the mid term test were things we went over two weeks ago!"

Everyone watched as McGonnagal stood and rushed to the Entrance, after a ghost floated up and spoke to her. "Huh. I guess someone finally bothered to tell her that Granger was still worked up.  I hope they get that girl a calming draught," Draco sneered.

Finishing up her food, Heather walked back towards the entrance hall.  Her followers fell in behind her, as they usually did. Normally she glanced around to make sure everyone else was also done eating, but she was in too big of a hurry to do so today.  She reached the hall in time to listen to McGonnagal try and reason with Granger. "Child, you simply must get ahold of yourself! There is no reason to make such a ridiculous scene!" She huffed in frustration.

Heather walked up to her and the sobbing first year. "Professor, I could take her to Madam Pomfrey's, if you'd like?" Heather's expression was so guileless, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. 

McGonnagal's lips tightened as she looked down at Granger, then she smiled faintly at Heather.  "Such a helpful child. Yes, take her upstairs and get her settled.”

Heather reached down and hauled the taller girl to her feet as soon as the professor left the room.  "Let's go, Granger."

Draco whined, "Why are you even helping her? This is a waste of time."

Heather rolled her eyes, and continued hauling Granger along to the infirmary. "Seriously, Draco, if you're so busy, just go on and go.  You can't reason someone out of a fit like she's having."

Draco sighed, "Whatever.  I don't see why she thought she'd be first, mu-muggleborns can't possibly keep up with purebloods."

Heather stopped, nearly losing her grip on Granger's arm. "Blood means nothing, Draco. Look around.  It's power that matters. Power you work for, not just what you've got at birth. Power is all that matters. She's obviously willing to work hard and try.  That’s more than you can say for half the people here! How could blood matter as much as what you can do?"

No one else was willing to break the silence, not even the previously crying girl.  She swallowed her tears, holding her breath to try and get the sobs under control. As Heather sat her down in the hospital bed, the bushy haired girl grabbed her arm and pulled her close to whisper. "You mean that? You think I'm powerful?"

Heather regarded her levelly, then shrugged minutely. "Maybe someday.  The way you're revising right now isn't working for you, or else you'd be tops in something. I've seen you cast, though, and you've got ability."  She shook off the other girl's hand and walked away. As soon as the other girl couldn't see her face anymore, she smirked.  _ And the seed is planted. Maybe I can get her away from those fools in the tower.  She's too smart to be wasted on them. Let's see how flexible she can become.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are seriously amazing readers, and I appreciate every single comment and kudos. <3 <3 <3


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